


Prisoner of the Mind

by itchyfingers



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Lots of Angst, MI-5 - Freeform, Richard Armitage - Freeform, Season 9 sucked so I'm re-writing it, Some Fluff, Spooks - Freeform, emphasis on eventual, recounting violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 79,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season Nine of MI-5 (Spooks) was horrible with what they did to Lucas North's character. This story creates an alternate universe where that never happened. The action picks up part way through season seven, as Lucas's cover is blown and he has to deal with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cami stood at the edge of the old wooden table that shone in the low light from the hanging lamps. Traditional Irish music played in the background, providing a thread to weave together the many conversations taking place all over the pub. “What can I get you?” she asked the man sitting in the large booth by himself, hostage to his memories.

He lifted his empty glass in response.

“What would you like to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in months.

“Yeah, but you need to eat something, so what do you want?” she asked.

He looked up at her for the first time. The most noticeable thing about her was the thick fall of stick straight golden-red hair she had unsuccessfully attempted to restrain in a tail. Wisps had worked their way free and framed her face. Heavy fringe brought attention to the tired eyes behind rectangular glasses that were unobtrusive enough that she probably wore them for her vision rather than style. She wasn’t pretty in the traditional sense – her chin was slightly asymmetrical, the bridge of her nose too wide, her pale eyebrows blending in enough with her skin to give her a slightly unfinished look – but she possessed an elegance that would have looked more at home in Westminster or Buckingham than in a pub t-shirt and bar apron tied low around her hips.  He looked back up at her face, into blue eyes that regarded him with a surprising amount of patience. “I said I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I’m not going to give you any more to drink until you eat something. You’re going to have at least two more of those ales, and you should have something solid in your stomach or you’re going to wish you were dead in the morning.” She sounded like she was negotiating with a intemperate toddler.

His eyes narrowed slightly, carefully suppressed anger flaring deep in their blue depths. “How do you know how much I’m going to drink?”

Cami had spent the day arguing budget line items with the Home Office and the last thing she had the desire to do now was to argue with another man who thought he knew better than she did. She fought the urge to glare back at him. “Would you like the short answer or the long answer?”

“Short.”

“I’ve worked here long enough to know what drinking to forget looks like,” she said, fatigue setting into her sagging shoulders.

“So you profile your customers in your free time? Does that help you know which ones to hit on to get a little extra in your…tip jar?” The corner of his mouth quirked in a weak attempt at a smirk.

She plopped down into the booth. He was sitting in the back of the curved banquette, so she had to turn to face him. “Let me profile you.”

“Go ahead and try, princess.” His eyes were cold and his voice bitter.

“You’ve had a shitty day. That much is obvious. You came in here at 10:00 on a weeknight. You’ve probably just got off work, which, judging by the cost of this coat,” she stroked the soft wool of the coat next to her on the bench, “isn’t menial labor. So, something went wrong and you had to deal with the fall out. You want to be left alone, because you claimed a huge booth for yourself, but you don’t want to be alone, because if you did, you would just go home.”

His gaze was shifting from bitter to considering as she continued.

“I saw you across the street before you came in. You got hit with a bunch of rain in the face and you panicked. Water in the face is a trigger for some trauma you went through in the past. You crossed the street and when you walked in the door you relaxed slightly, like you were somewhere familiar. You still managed to locate all the exits and chose a seat that not only prevents anyone from coming up behind you but also gives you a view of the entire room. That’s enemy territory training which contradicts your subconscious recognition of a safe space. That level of paranoia indicates some sort of high level security work. Now, your watch isn’t expensive enough for you to be a private contractor, so you work for the government.”

Stress lines appeared around his mouth as she continued talking. Cami wasn’t sure why she was playing this game with him. It was evident by the way he carried himself that he could be dangerous, and he was obviously a little unstable.

“Those tattoos aren’t professional. That’s prison ink. Police won’t hire ex-felons, which makes me think MI-5 or MI-6. If you got those in prison, that indicates a long enough stay in a hostile nation’s prison system that is powerful enough that we wouldn’t mess with them to break you out. Which means someone got you out diplomatically. That limits the options – powerful, hostile nations that we have diplomatic relationships with. With the script of that tattoo on your inner wrist,” she nodded at it, and he looked down to see the tattoo exposed by his rolled up shirt sleeve, “my best bet would be Russia. So, security service that spent multiple years in a Russian prison, waterboarded and tortured, and was finally released.”

She paused, looking at him like he was a piece of art, her head tilted to one side. “The story says MI-6, but I want to say MI-5. You’re in jeans and MI-6 would be in a suit on home turf.”

His fingers closed painfully around her wrist, his hand moving almost faster than she could follow. “Who are you?” he snarled.

“My name is Camwyn Reynolds, but my friends call me Cami,” she answered calmly. “I’m a trauma counselor. You have the signs all over you. Anyone with my experience would be able to spot you. I’m better than most, so I don’t know if everyone would have gotten as much of the story as I did, but you got triggered in front of a trauma specialist. It’s hard to miss.”

His fingers relaxed slightly.

“I’m going to walk over to the kitchen and order you some food and get you another drink. I’ll stay in your eyeline. That will give you time to get on your mobile and have someone run my story to see if I’m legit or if I’m a spy trying to get you to pour your heart out to me. So, what do you want to eat?”  
  
He still hadn’t let her go, but she was perfectly calm. He could feel her pulse steady under his fingertips. He finally released her wrist. “Fish and chips.” His voice was like sandpaper.

She stood and said, “It’s spelled C-A-M-W-Y-N. Camwyn Reynolds.” She turned her back on him and walked towards the kitchen.

He pushed a button on his phone. It was answered almost immediately. “Malcolm, I need you to run a check on somebody for me.”

“Sure, who is it?”

He spelled out her name and then waited.

Malcolm responded in a few seconds. “Okay, I have her file, what do you need to know?”

“Who is she?”

“Um, she works for the joint military command. She’s got a master’s in counseling, and it says that she’s specialized in post-combat treatment. She’s got a secret level security clearance, and her file is filled with all sorts of honors and commendations.”

He was quiet.

“Lucas, are you okay?”

“Yeah, she just IDed me as MI-5 with trauma from being tortured in a Russian prison.”

The surprise was evident in Malcolm’s voice. “How?”

“She’s like Sherlock Holmes. It’s strange. I want to know what she’s doing working in a bar.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He hung up.

Cami had been watching him from across the room. When she saw him put his mobile down, she came out from behind the heavy wooden bar and crossed to his booth, carrying his drink. She set it down in front of him.

“Sit.”

“I’d normally make you say please, but since you’ve had such a bad day, I’ll forgive the lack of manners,” she said lightly as she sat back down on the bench, the old leather sliding smoothly against her jeans.

“I assume my story checked out?” She nodded at his mobile.

“Why is someone with your qualifications working in a pub?” He cut straight to the chase.

 “My family has owned Sullivan’s for decades. Two of my brothers manage it now. Their wives both had babies last week, so I’m helping out in the evenings for a bit until things get back to normal.”

A young woman brought a plate of fish and chips to the table. “Thanks, Jennifer.” Cami slid the plate over to the man and then pushed a shaker of vinegar over to him as well.

He eyed the plate suspiciously.

“Do you want me to eat one first to show you they aren’t poisoned?” She reached out her hand to grab one of the chips. He intercepted her hand, and then picked one up and handed it to her.

She tried to keep from laughing as she bit into the warm chip. “Needs more vinegar,” she remarked.

His eyes narrowed in irritation, and he bit into a piece of fish.

“I’m sorry…I don’t know what to call you.” She looked at him, expectantly.

“You can call me Jeremy.” His voice was husky and deep, designed to make women melt and command the respect of men.

“Jeremy,” she repeated.

She watched him for a moment. His forearms were on the table forming a protected space around his body. The way he was holding himself screamed out to someone with her training.

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

He almost choked on his fish. After he finished coughing, he arched an eyebrow at her in disbelief. “Are you hitting on me?”

She started laughing. “No! Are you seeing a therapist?”

He shook his head.

“Listen, I’m going to bet that you managed to fake your psych evaluation enough to convince them you were healthy enough to get back to work, and your superiors felt guilty enough about what you went through that they let you come back to work before you should have. If what I saw out on the street is any indication, you are still pretty traumatized.”

“I’m fine,” he practically growled as he forced himself not to look away from her.

She shook her head, a regretful smile on her face. “No, you’re not. I would bet you still have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, you’ve got nightmares, anger outbursts, headaches, your muscles tied in knots…You’re not fine.”

He tried to interrupt but she continued onward.

“I’ve heard it before, you don’t want to tell anyone at work, because you’re afraid they are going to put you inpatient for treatment and the forced vacation would drive you crazy.”

She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a business card. She flipped it over and wrote on the back of it.

“This is my card. If you ever want to talk you can call and set up an appointment. Or, if you’re worried that someone might spot you and tell your boss that you’re talking to a therapist, I wrote my personal number on the back. You can call me and we can set something up privately. No one at work has to know.”

She pushed the card over to him. He looked at it warily, as if it were a snake that might bite if provoked.

“Jeremy, I’m serious when I tell you if you don’t get help, you’re going to compromise a mission eventually. You have to deal with this.

“Why would you do this for a stranger?”

She smiled at him. “I used to bring home stray puppies all the time when I was growing up. I guess I never really got out of the habit.”

She got up and left him there to his dinner and beer. She went back to work, cleaning off the tables, filling drinks for the crew of old neighborhood men who sat at the bar. She had to go fetch a new keg and when she came back into the main room, she noticed Jeremy was gone. She went to go clean off the table. Next to the empty dinner plate was her business card.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for series seven. Timewise, this episode takes place at the conclusion of series seven, episode eight.

Cami was exhausted. She unlocked her front door and then closed it behind her, slumping against it as she fumbled the lock shut. She hated these charity balls, but it was essential to her plan that she went to these. She was so close to getting the funding in place to make everything happen. As happy as that made her, right now she wanted nothing more than a hot shower to get the leering politician karmic stank off of her and to fall into bed.

She tossed her impractically small handbag on the entry table and sat in the adjacent chair to unfasten the delicate buckles on her high heels. She set them under the table and started to get up, when her purse started to vibrate. She fished out her mobile and was incredibly tempted to just ignore the unknown number that shone on the screen. The only thing that made her answer it was the possibility that it could be one of the donors she had talked to this evening.

 “This is Camwyn.” She tried to sound bright and cheerful.

“Cami.” A rough voice on the other end corrected her.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Jeremy.” After a second he added, “From the pub.”

“Oh!”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

She wondered who thought calling a practical stranger after midnight equaled a good time. “No, I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

“I want to take you up on your offer. I need to talk to someone.” He sounded as tired as she felt.

“Sure. We can set something up for next week.” She grabbed a notepad from the small drawer in the table.

“No, I need to talk to someone now.”

 _Why do puppies always want to play in the middle of the night?_  Cami thought with fatigued resignation.

“That’s fine.” She kept the tiredness out of her voice. “Let me give you my address.”

“No need. I’m sitting in front of your house.”

“How did you–,” she sighed. “Never mind. Come on in.” She rang off.  _What have I gotten myself into this time?_ She turned off her mobile –  _too late_ , she thought – and unlocked the front door. She opened it to see him coming up the walk, the collar of his coat turned up against a non-existent chill.

Jeremy looked up to see her, illuminated from behind by the chandelier in the foyer. It made her hair glow like dying embers. She was wearing a floor length gown that must have been made entirely out of sequins that started out as white near her neck and then darkened through yellows and orange and reds as they reached the hem. She looked like a goddess of flame, and not for the first time he wondered what he was doing here. He climbed the steps and stood before her.

“So, have you had me under surveillance for the last month?”

“Not the whole month.” His mind flashed through the images his team had compiled over the last month. Pictures of her crossing the parking lot in front of military offices, sedately dressed. Jogging in the park in tight spandex. Playing football with a bunch of other women. Hanging upside down on the jungle gym, with children he assumed were nieces and nephews, her hair dangling down to the ground. In a gown on the arm of man in a tuxedo at some function. Buying fresh flowers and coffee on weekend mornings. Dancing to the music in her car as she waited at a light. Her financials had checked out too. No excessive debt. No unexplainable cash deposits. She was clean.

Harry had been concerned that he had been so easily spotted, and insisted that she be thoroughly vetted. When it appeared that she was clean, he insisted that Jeremy get some help. “If she identified you like this, someone else could too. You need to get this fixed before you get yourself or someone else killed. Or worse.”

“Come in,” she sighed. She wasn’t entirely surprised she had been watched. She had thought to shock him into getting treatment. She should have known it would be a shock to the whole system.

He stood awkwardly in her foyer, not knowing where to go.

“Can I take your coat?”

He reluctantly took it off, wincing from the motion.

She looked at him closer. “Is that blood on your shirt?”

He nodded.

“Is it yours?”

He nodded again.

“Have you had it looked at yet?”

He pulled up his shirt to show her the large white bandage taped over his side.

“Well, at least you got it cleaned before you showed up here.” She sighed. This brought back way too many memories. “Just for future reference, I don’t do stitches,” she said in exasperation.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She was hoping for some sort of reaction other than the flat façade she was presented with, but he was stoic. This was going to be a test of her skills.

“When’s the last time you ate?” she asked.

He thought back, trying to remember when he had found time for food that day.

“Yeah, that’s answer enough. Follow me.”

She led him down a hall and into a small cozy kitchen. The cupboards were painted in a deep shade of aqua, and the small iridescent glass tiles on the backsplash combined to make him feel like he was underwater.

“Sit,” she pushed him towards a table that was pulled up against a window seat.  The table had piles of books about psychology, current military interventions, and financial policy on it and the newspaper was folded over to a mostly completed crossword done in ink. She rummaged through the fridge, pulling stuff out and putting it on the counter. Within a few minutes she put a plate with a huge omelet in front of him. It was stuffed with diced peppers and mushrooms and ham. Cheese was melted over the top of it. She handed him a fork and put a glass of milk in front of him. “Eat that. I’m going to go change. Then we’ll talk.”

She left him to his food and he forced himself to take a bite even though he wasn’t hungry. He nearly moaned in delight; it was like a foodgasm. When she came back, the plate was empty, but the glass of milk was full and he was filling in answers on the crossword puzzle. “I don’t suppose you have anything a bit stronger?”

“No alcohol. It’s a depressant and you don’t need that. And besides, milk goes better with biscuits.” She opened a tin that was sitting on the counter and handed it to him. He took a biscuit out of the tin and looked at her skeptically, one perfect eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Milk and biscuits at midnight? What am I, five?”

“You would be surprised the magic that can be wrought by homemade biscuits at midnight.” She bit into one, chewed and swallowed. “At any time, actually.” She smiled at him beatifically. That is, if a saint wore a faded t-shirt that read, “Don’t blame me, I voted for Gandalf” over a pair of hot pink pajama pants festooned with penguins. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun with what appeared to be chopsticks stuck through it.

He relented and took a bite. They were good.

She picked up the tin and said, “Follow me.” He brought the biscuit with him, but left the glass of milk behind.

She led him back down the hall and into a living room. There was a large purple sofa that had its back to the entry. It faced two oversized arm chairs that were a deep satiny grey. They were arranged around a fireplace that looked like it was actually used. The mantle had a large modern looking painting propped up on it, and was festooned with cards and photos. The entire back wall was bookshelves, stuffed to the limit. Photos and cards also sat in front of many of the books.

 “So, do I lay down on the couch?” he asked.

“Only if you want to. Most people just sit on it.”

Cami turned on some lamps around the room. She placed the tin of biscuits on the coffee table, and then curled up in one of the arm chairs. He sat down gingerly on the couch.

“So, what made you finally decide to come see me?” she asked.

“My boss threatened to send me for inpatient treatment if I didn’t get help. I’ve been dodging it for the last week, but today…” His voice trailed off.

She waited for him to continue.

“I always wondered how my cover got blown. Today, I found out. One of my…colleagues,” his voice was bitter, “sold me out. She’d been spying for the Russians for years.” He was resting his head in his hands. His elbows were braced on his knees, and he was staring at the floor. “I don’t know how anyone could do that,” he continued. “She had to know what they would do to me and she just turned me over. She seemed proud of what she had done.”

“What is going to happen to her now?” she asked quietly.

“She’s dead.” His voice was flat.

“Did you kill her?” Her voice was perfectly neutral. She could have been inquiring about what kind of coffee he preferred.

“I didn’t get the chance. She died defusing a nuclear bomb. She died saving my life. Saving your life. She saved probably millions of lives today, but she destroyed my life.”

“If she hadn’t died, would you have killed her?”

“Yes.” Jeremy’s answer was immediate and calm, but it carried the weight of a promise.

“I can’t imagine that is standard protocol for these situations.”

“She was going to be interrogated. We might have traded her back to the Russians once we were done with her, if we thought it would do any good.”

“Do you think she knew that?”

“Of course.”

“So, she knew she was looking at an extended period of interrogation. I would say torture, but of course we don’t torture people in this country.”

He looked up at her. “You think she took the easy way out?”

“It’s a possibility,” she responded.

“How is that fair?” He exploded in anger. He lurched to his feet and started pacing the room like a wild animal in a cage. “She did so much harm. Not just to me, but to so many people. She fucked over so many lives. My parents think I’m dead. I can’t tell them I’m not because it would blow my cover. I can never see my family again. My wife…well, she’s married to someone else now. She has a kid and the FSB used my imprisonment to flip her, so now she’s working as a Russian agent. She refuses to see me. Connie didn’t just take away eight years of my life, she took away my past and my future.” He slumped back down on the couch.

“Well, we’re just a little overly dramatic tonight, aren’t we?” she said quietly.

His jaw tensed with anger. “What did you say?”

“I’m not denying the seriousness of what happened to you, but you have to stop giving her power to wreck your life.”

“She did wreck my life. Look at me! I can’t even sleep through the night three times out of four. I freaked out over getting rained on. I’m supposed to be at Thames House right now because the Russians kidnapped my boss after he went to them for help to stop the fucking bomb that killed that damn woman, but I can’t go there because I swear to God I would break the arm of the first person to look at me wrong.”

She didn’t react. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“What?”

“What are you going to do about it?” she repeated calmly.

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that your job? To fix this kind of stuff?”

“Well, I can work with a psychiatrist to get you some medications. Unfortunately, most of them would disqualify you for service at this point in time.”

He shook his head. “I’m not taking any pills.”

She nodded. “So, the next step is behavioral changes. No alcohol after eight pm. No caffeine either, unless it’s a national emergency and you have to stay awake. I’d tell you to get eight hours of sleep every night, but I know how likely that is to happen at this point, so I’ll just tell you to try. And try to stay on a schedule, go to bed and wake up at the same time.” She paused. “When is the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”

He slumped against the back of the couch. “I have nightmares most nights. When I do manage to actually sleep, I still feel like I’m tired when I wake up. I am actually sleeping in a bed now instead of on the floor, though.”  
  
She smiled. “Well that’s progress. What do you do in bed?”

“Are you asking if I masturbate?” He seemed genuinely confused about what was going on.

She started laughing. “No, though if you do, that’s fine. Just don’t think about your ex-wife. Stick to porn and celebrities. Orgasms are good for you.”

This was definitely not what he had expected when he showed up this evening.

“Bed is for two things,” she continued. “Sleeping and sex, of either the solo or joint flavor. No TV, no reading, no surfing the internet. Your brain needs to associate bed with sex or sleep, and that’s it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

If sass was a lethal weapon, Cami would have been dead. His smirk was razor sharp. She knew she probably looked 18 in the getup she had on, but men always had a hard time with her discussing sex in a clinical manner.

“Do you need to go back to work this evening?”

He nodded.

“Okay, I’m not sending you back there in this condition. Come with me.” He followed her back down the hall, past the kitchen and to a staircase that led down. The stairs opened up into a small home gym. In one corner, a punching bag hung from the ceiling. “Go at it.”

He stripped off his shirt as he crossed the room and attacked the punching bag with a ferocity that was almost feral. She sat with her back up against the wall and watched him pound the bag, muscles rippling in his back and chest under a multitude of tattoos until he glistened with sweat. She was surprised he had that much strength with the size of the bandage on his side.

After fifteen minutes he started to slow and then he slumped to the ground with little warning. His shoulders started to shake as he choked back sobs. She ran across the room and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him closely as she knelt on the floor next to him. He turned into her, clinging like a helpless child and wept as Cami stroked his hair. He slowly calmed down after a few minutes, the steady torrent of tears breaking apart into sporadic shudders. He finally pulled back and wiped a hand across his eyes.

“Sorry.” He stood up. “I should get back to work.” He grabbed his shirt from the floor and headed up the stairs as he put it back on.

She had to hurry to keep up with him as he strode down the hall. She wanted to get him to talk now that he was calmer, but he was determined to leave. He grabbed his coat and put it on. “Sorry about getting sweat all over you. And crying on you.” He didn’t want to meet her eyes.

“It’s alright. I wash.” She smiled at him, trying to get him to open up again. He turned to go. She touched his arm and he turned to look at her. “When are you coming back?”

His eyes were flat and dead-looking, and his shoulders slumped in a way that was completely opposite of the ferocity she had seen in them a few minutes earlier. “I don’t know.” And he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I realized I got my timing wrong in the first two chapters. He hadn’t met Sarah yet in the last chapter so I edited that out. Don’t worry. We’ll deal with Sarah when it’s time. This chapter is set after series 8, episode 1.
> 
> Also, this is the last chapter that I wrote before I gave up, so from here on out I will be writing new material rather than editing, so that my affect my speed.

The doorbell rang as Cami was finishing up her workout. “Just a minute!” she yelled up the stairs as she grabbed a towel to dry off. Her muscles ached. She normally didn’t push herself this hard, but the season started next week and even if was just an amateur league her competitive streak wouldn’t let her do anything but the best. She was toweling off the sweat from her stomach as she opened the door and looked up to meet the appreciative look on Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy knew he had to come back here. It had been a week since he had left and the nightmares now featured Connie’s laughing face as she held him down under water, her fingernails penetrating his skin, his blood swirling in the frothing tub until he was still, laying face up in the wetlands surrounding Lushanka, the waves tinted red.

The door opened, and he suddenly felt better about his visit. Cami’s eyes were down, making sure she had gotten all the sweat. She was wearing a sports bra covered in orange and red lilies, and a pair of running pants that drew his attention to her curves and their striking contrast to her flat stomach. He wanted to run a finger down her belly to see if her skin was as soft as it appeared.

Jeremy blinked, and then met her eyes. He had the good grace to look embarrassed as he stumbled over his first words. “Uhh, hi. I was wondering if you had some time for me this evening.”

Cami tried not to think of the grant proposals she needed to finalize and invited him in to her home. “You’ll probably get tired of me asking you this, but when is the last time you ate?”

“At breakfast.”

Cami shook her head disappointedly, though she was smiling. “At least you don’t seem to be covered in blood this time.” She paused, trying to assess his mood. After that first initial moment of masculine appreciation of the female form, he had shut down again. The impassive face was belied by the way he stood, his weight forward, ready to move, and the tension in his shoulders. It hurt to look at how tense he was. “Okay, you go punch things downstairs until you feel a bit more human. Feel free to strip down to whatever you want. There’s a bath down there so you can clean up when you’re done. I’ll put together something to eat while you’re down there.”

Smiling wryly, he headed down the hallway.

Forty minutes later, Jeremy stepped into the kitchen, barefoot and with hair damp from the shower. He was sad to see that she had showered and changed, her hair hanging in a thick braid down her back. As he considered the way the faded jeans clung to her curves, he decided that this was a perfectly acceptable alternative.

“Stop checking out my bum and go sit down.” His eyes flew up to her face. She wasn’t even looking at him. All her attention was centered on the griddle on the stovetop. She flipped the last few pancakes onto a plate that was already stacked with them and crisp strips of bacon.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he walked over to the table and took his place on the heavily padded banquette. She had already set two places.

Cami crossed to the table and set the plate down in the middle, and then took a seat on the couch opposite. “Dig in,” she said.

Jeremy waited until she had served herself and then helped himself. He looked across the table at where Cami sat. “Are you…are you putting sugar on your pancakes?”

Cami looked up at him, the shaker in her hand freezing in mid-air. “Cinnamon-sugar. Do you want some?”

He sat back against the cushions. “I’ve never seen anyone put that on pancakes before.”

“Maple syrup is just liquid sugar. And this is less sticky. And I don’t like the way maple tastes.” She rolled the sprinkled pancake and bit off the end of the roll.

“I guess I’m more of a traditionalist when it comes to my breakfast choices.” There was a rich note of amusement in his voice.

She got up from the table and went over to the fridge. She fished out a bottle of maple syrup. “I keep this around for when I’m feeding my brothers.” She handed him the bottle and then sat cross-legged on the couch.

He poured the syrup over the stack of pancakes on his plate, and then took a bite. “These are delicious,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks. Breakfast foods are the only things I am good at cooking. Luckily, I love breakfast. Even at 9:00 at night.” She took a bite of bacon.

“And biscuits,” he added.

“Biscuits don’t count,” she replied laughingly as she stood up. She grabbed the tin of biscuits on the counter and set it on the table. She opened the fridge once again and got out the milk, and then grabbed two glasses from the rack next to the sink. “That’s just baking. Baking’s easy compared to cooking. Just follow the directions and make sure your oven’s at the right temp.”

She poured two glasses of milk, set one at each of their places, and retook her perch on the couch.

“Do you have a cow in your backyard or something?” he asked as he stared at the glass of milk.

“Milk’s good for you. It makes strong bones.” She opened the tin, fished out a biscuit and dunked it in her glass. “And besides, you need it for the magic to happen.” She took a bite of her biscuit, rolled her eyes back in her head and sighed in pleasure. “So good.”

Jeremy wondered what was wrong with him that he was getting so much enjoyment out of watching a woman eat. He didn’t want to get caught looking for a third time. Cami finished off her treat and went back to sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on her pancakes. They ate in companionable silence until they were both sated.

Cami reached for another biscuit. “How can you eat that much and still be as…” Jeremy paused, uncertain if he was just sticking his foot in his mouth.

“What, as skinny as I am?” She laughed at the relieved look on his face as he realized he hadn’t offended her. “Good genes, mostly. My mom’s had seven kids and her waist is just about as small as mine.”

“Your father is a lucky man,” he responded in jest.

“Ewwww,” she sounded horrified, her nose wrinkled in comic disgust. “That’s my parents. You can’t say things like that about my parents.”

He started laughing. “How are you both this person and a trauma counselor at the same time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a couch in your kitchen…”

“I know! Isn’t it great? I got it at a consignment shop a few days ago. It’s so much better than chairs. Much more comfortable.” She was genuinely enthusiastic about the piece of furniture, her hand stroking the tufted velvet upholstery.

“Adults usually don’t have velvet couches in their kitchen, and wear penguin pants and put sugar on pancakes.”

“I know. It’s a little bit like being confronted with a mad fairy, right?” She laughed. “So many people have tried to get me to be a bit more normal, but why would I want to do that? I mean, really, if you had a choice, wouldn’t you want to sit on a turquoise velvet couch eating pancakes and biscuits than some boring uncomfortable hard chair at a formal dinner where people get their knickers in a twist if you use the wrong fork? Life’s too short for that kind of stuff if you can avoid it.”

“You are just…not what I’m used to. Everyone in my life is so serious all the time.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s also part of your problem,” she responded. Her eyes were wide open and earnest as she waved her biscuit at him.

“What do you mean?” His head tilted slightly to the side, considering the look on her face.

“If I’m going to put on my serious counselor face, we’re going in the other room.” Before he could respond, she grabbed the tin and her glass of milk and headed out the kitchen door.

He followed her, though he left his milk behind. He walked behind her down the hall towards the room they had been in last time he had been here. He admired the view of her hips swaying gently as she walked in front of him.

“I thought I told you to stop checking out my arse.” She caught his eyes in the reflection of a mirror on the wall. She was trying not to laugh.

She walked into the living room and put the tin and her glass of milk on the coffee table and curled up in her armchair. It was taller than she was by at least a foot when she was sitting down. It was so comically oversized he decided she must have stolen it from a movie set. He took his place on the couch, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

“Okay, I’m going to put on my serious counselor face now,” she said.

“Somehow, I doubt you have a serious counselor face,” he retorted, though his rough voice was tinged with humor.

“Oh, I do, but you really don’t need a super serious counselor.”

“So, I’m fine?” he asked, his voice an odd mix of hope and incredulity.

“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “You’re screwed up, honey, but you recognize that you’re screwed up and actually want to get better, which is a good start. Some people can take weeks, if not months, to get to this point.”

He sank back into the couch, resignation to his fate making him too tired to keep sitting up. “Okay, if I’m screwed up, and don’t need super serious counselor face, what do I need?”

“Well, you need moderate counselor face, but you also need a friend,” she responded.

“A friend,” he replied flatly.

She nodded.

“What makes you think I don’t have friends?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He sounded defensive, even to himself.

“People from work don’t count,” she replied calmly.

He forced himself to relax his hands which had clenched into fists of their own accord. He rubbed them restlessly against his thighs. “You don’t understand,” he said.

“Of course I do. You’ve been gone so long that there’s no way to explain convincingly to anyone who knew you before where you’ve been, not to mention the whole ‘died in combat’ cover story. The people at work who knew you before at work feel what’s called ‘survivor’s guilt’ that it happened to you instead of them which prevents a significant level of intimacy from forming. The new agents all seem too young and naïve to truly understand what you went through, and you’re senior enough in the hierarchy to prevent an equal relationship from forming.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Sorry, I should have let you say that.” She didn’t sound sorry. She sounded a little smug.

“Are you trying to convince me that you know everything or something?” He glared at her and she noticed that his hands had turned into white-knuckled fists again.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me!” He surged to his feet. “You seem to know everything about why people do things.”

She paused, looked at him with her head cocked to one side. Watching her look at him, he was struck by the realization that all she needed was a change of clothes and a pair of wings and she really would look like a mad fairy, trying to decide if she was going to help or harm the hapless knight who had wandered into her realm. The oversized chair would just have to be some sort of weird mushroom. He caught his train of thought and started to wonder if she had put weird mushrooms in the pancakes.

“What are you most mad about right now?” She seemed genuinely curious.

“How do you know all that stuff about me? Did you look at my file? Are you talking to the other officers?”

“No. I don’t need to.”

“Then how do you know?” he demanded.

“Because it’s a very standard reaction for people who have been in long-term situations like yours. You must be an exceptional agent, Jeremy, to have survived the little bit you have told me about what you went through, but you have a very normal case of PTSD. And while the length and severity of your experience is fairly atypical, the symptoms you are presenting are very standard.”

She watched him digest this piece of information. MI-5 officers were used to thinking of themselves as superhuman, immortal, above the weaknesses of common people. They had to. It was the only way they could do their job. This also meant they didn’t like be told they were normal. After several seconds, she added, “And despite what I told you in the kitchen, in this case, normal is good. It means we know what we’re doing, and how to fix what’s wrong.”

He sank back down onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. “You can fix this?” His voice cracked slightly.

“Of course,” she answered quietly.

He let go of a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding, slumping back against the couch again, his head falling backward to rest against the fabric. He didn’t see her cross the room, though he did hear her sit down next to him. He looked over and saw she was sitting sideways on the couch, facing him. She put her hand gently on his knee.

“We’re going to fix this, Jeremy. You’re going to be okay.”

He didn’t say anything. He just searched her face, desperately hoping not to see any sign of deceit there. Cami watched his eyes flick over her face.

“I promise. You’re going to be okay,” she repeated. “Just trust me.”

Another deep, shuddering breath.

“Okay. I trust you.”

She smiled and sat back, establishing a bit more space between them. “So, let me tell you what we’re going to do.”

He watched her, the energy and sparkle in her eyes as she talked, and the fluidity with which she gestured as she talked. “First, yes we will do normal therapy type stuff. We’re going to have to talk about what you went through to help you process it. We’ll do that at the pace that you feel comfortable with. I may push you a little bit here and there, but mostly, you’ll set the pace with that.” He nodded.

“Second, you need a friend.” He started to say something, but she cut him off with an upheld finger. “Listen to me. You need someone that doesn’t inhabit the same security services circle of paranoia and lesser evils. You need someone to help you connect to the world that you gave up so much to protect so you remember why you decided it was worth your life to protect it.”

She paused. He was still looking at her skeptically.

“You said you’d trust me, remember?”

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, but I have one logistical problem with your plan.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t just run down to the store and buy me a friend.”

“Well, it depends on the kind of friend you want,” she replied, her nose crinkling as she smiled at him, laughing. He smiled reluctantly, though she could tell he thought it was funny.

“Seriously though,” she continued, “it’s fine. I’m going to be your friend until you find some more in a more natural way.” She seemed so pleased with this plan that he could barely stand to raise another objection.

“I thought friends had to have things in common with each other. Something on which to base the friendship.”

“We have plenty of things in common.”

He raised that eyebrow again. She bit back the urge to ask him if he could arch the other one like that. “Like what?”

“Well,” she drew the word out slightly as she tried to think of something, “we both think I’m a great cook, and we both think I have an amazing arse.” She started laughing, and when she saw his expression warring between exasperation and laughter, her laughter intensified.

“Oh good, my one friend in the world is insane,” he muttered, loud enough to make sure she heard.

“Yep!” she replied brightly, and collapsed into giggles again. It was one of those fits of giggles that was impossible to get under control. Every time she thought she had stopped, the bemused expression on his face would set her off again. Finally she said, “Okay, stop looking at me. You’re making me laugh.”

She laid back on the couch, trying to find a steady rhythm to her breathing to calm herself down.

“While you’re doing that, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she responded to the disembodied voice, a partial giggle escaping on the word.

“So, apparently, we do have things in common, but I was wondering,” he paused and she felt his weight shift on the couch and opened her eyes to see him turning so he was facing more directly towards her. “How are we going to celebrate our mutual appreciation of your amazing ass?” His voice was husky, and their eyes locked, an almost palpable electric charge in the air between them. She felt her cheeks flush in reaction.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, he said, “Good, I got rid of your giggles.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, and then she fought to regain her composure. “Just trying to help,” he added, with an innocent look on his face.

She sat up and adjusted her shirt, and smiled weakly.

“I do have to say, I didn’t realize women still blushed anymore.”

She raised one of her hands to her face, feeling the heat radiating from her cheeks. He laughed.

“But, as a friend,” he stressed the word, “I will try not to take advantage of your weakness.” He was a little cocky, she could tell. It must have been nice for his ego to be able to throw her off balance, to regain a little bit of power in the relationship. She could hear her professional ethics professor screaming in her head about boundaries and client/therapist relationships, but she told the voice to be quiet, she would be fine. Still, she scooted back against the arm of the couch, increasing the physical distance between them. She took a calming breath. Time to get this train back on track.

“So, what club do you support?”

“I don’t really follow football, I’ve always been more of a rugby fan.”

“What?” Her voice was light with mock reproof. “How can you not follow football? You are English, right?”

“Cumbrian, actually.”

“Well, that explains the rugby, I guess. But still, as long as you’re not a Chelsea fan, we’ll be okay, because,” and here, her voice started to regain some of the energy it had possessed before, “I have two tickets to the Liverpool Chelsea match on Saturday and I’m going to take you.” Her eyes danced with excitement.

“A football match.” He sounded completely underwhelmed.

“Not just any football match. It’s Liverpool. It’s going to be so much fun.” She was practically bouncing in her seat. “Me. You. Thousands of singing fans. I’ll even let you have a beer.”

“Well, if I get to have a beer I can probably stand it,” he said, trying to mimic a teenager’s recalcitrance, but she could tell he was faking it.

“Unless you are preventing a nuclear disaster or other national emergency that would interrupt the match, you are going to meet me at Britannia Gate at Stamford Bridge at 2:20. You will wear Liverpool red. If you show up in blue, you do not get to have a beer, and I get to kick you in the shin with pointy shoes on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mock saluted.

“Now,” her voice gentled, “what’s been going on that made you show up again?”

He took a deep breath and began to tell her about his nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place between episodes three and four of series eight.

_This chapter takes place between episodes of episodes of three and four of series eight._

Cami looked at her mobile, checking to see if she was getting stood up. It was a glorious day for a match with the air crisp and a slight breeze that would be even more pleasant once everyone was crowded into the stands. The air was filled with lively chatter and good-humored catcalls being exchanged between the crowds of red and blue clad fans that streamed around her like a rock in the river as they headed towards the stadium.

She saw the display flip to 2:20 and she looked back up to see Jeremy walking towards her. For someone who didn’t follow football, he managed to look like he’s been sent by central casting in a Liverpool kit and a pair of dark jeans that hugged him in all the right places. She had never seen thighs like that on anyone other than a footballer. She stomped fiercely on those thoughts and waved at him. He smiled a greeting when he saw her.

“Two twenty at Britannia Gate, as ordered.”  Again he offered her a mock salute.

She tugged at his scarf. “Looking good. Did you steal this from the costume department at work?”

“No, I actually bought this. I figured if we’re going to be friends, I should expand the things we have in common to beings supporters of Liverpool, so I thought it was a good investment.”

“Good choice.” She tucked her arm through his and they set off to their entrance gate, winding through the narrow passage that surrounded the stadium, a high walled alley with the field on one side and an old high brick wall on the other.

The match was fantastic, at least from Cami’s perspective. Jeremy seemed to be enjoying himself and asked intelligent questions when the singing and chanting would quiet enough to where conversation was possible, which wasn’t often. Flags and banners and scarves were waved with abandon and some attempt at choreography. When the match was almost over, Liverpool held a two goal lead, and the Liverpool fans launched into a passionate rendition of “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” Cami stood singing with the rest of them and Jeremy was surprised to see tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t realize you were a big enough fan to cry over matches,” he remarked when the song came to a close.

She kept her eyes fixed on the pitch. “My older brother was a huge Liverpool fan. We would watch the matches together on the telly when I was little, and he taught me everything I know about the game. Conor took me to my first match and stuck up for me wanting to play with the other boys in the neighborhood. He died in Basra. This is where I feel closest to him.” She wiped away the tears with the heel of her hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. I think it’s why I still play amateur league. It gives me a connection to him.”

“You play football?” he asked, though he knew the answer already.

She nodded, “It’s just a women’s amateur league, but it’s fun.” Their conversation was interrupted as one of the forwards made an attack on goal. She yelled in frustration as the player was slide tackled by a Chelsea defender and no foul was called. The home faithful sent up a cheer.

“I broke an opponent’s leg once,” she remarked offhandedly.

Jeremy almost spit out his mouthful of beer. “You did what? How?”

“A bad execution of that slide tackle you just saw. I went in too high and hit her mid-calf, and one of my teammates was coming in from the other direction and managed to hit her foot at the exact same moment. Snapped her leg. That’s a sound I won’t forget.” She took a sip of her drink. “Earned me my first red card, too.”

“First?” He turned to her in surprise. “How many have you gotten?” This was a side of the diminutive therapist he hadn’t seen before.

“Four.”

“Four? In how many years of playing?”

“I’ve played since I was little.”

“I don’t think you broke someone’s leg when you were six.”

She grinned at his refusal to accept her subterfuge. “I was in uni.”

“So how did you get the other three?” He found himself intrigued by this fierce undercurrent to the playful and thoughtful spirit he had interacted with previously.

“One for deliberately blocking a goal scoring opportunity with my hand, one for swearing at an opponent who kept getting in my face, and once for shoving a referee.”

“You pushed a ref? That’s not very smart.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. “She kept ignoring fouls against my teammates, and one of them got hurt and she didn’t call it, and I lost my temper.” She apparently believed in holding a grudge, he noted.

“Do you lose your temper a lot?”

She laughed as a guilty blush stole over her cheeks and she looked down at the cup of beer she was holding. “I have been told I have a quote ‘long and deep competitive streak’ end quote.” She took a breath and then muttered, “By multiple people.”

“Remind me not to piss you off.”

She tried to laugh. “Yeah, it’s not pretty.”

As they left the stadium after the match, the sun still shone overhead with a brilliance that a born-and-raised Londoner knew never to waste. “Do you have plans for this afternoon?”

“No, why?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

They wandered through the crowded streets until Cami turned them through the south gate into Brompton Cemetary Park. “So, tell me about Lushanka.”

Jeremy stopped dead in his tracks. “You bring me to a cemetery to talk about eight years of prison?”

“I brought you some place quiet and peaceful where there’s lots of room and sunshine and unfettered movement and no walls to talk about a place that had none of those things. You don’t have to tell me about what happened to you there. For today, just focus on the buildings.”

They walked together for two hours, around and around the walking path that circled through the park. He would be silent for minutes at a time, and then start talking again. Darkness and metal, cracked tile and fluorescent lights, concrete blocks and iron bars and cramped cells that always stank, always were cold, always were dank and damp and dark.

“And then there was where they kept you in solitary and you wouldn’t see another human for days.” He stopped and stared at a gravestone. Cami waited patiently but when he showed no signs of coming back to her after fifteen minutes she softly spoke his name.

He started and then looked over her as if he was surprised to be in London.

“What were you thinking about?”

He squatted and rubbed his finger over the letters engraved in the stone. “I tried to kill myself in solitary. Death was preferable to being alone like that because when you’re dead hope can’t torture you anymore.”

“Do you still want to kill yourself?”

He was mesmerized by the stone, the name Reginald Frye, tracing the letters over and over. “No.”

She watched him carefully, not surprised at the mindless movement of his hands over the stone. The brain was very skilled at distracting itself from things that hurt too much. “Why did you survive?”

“My torturer saved me. He kept me alive so he could hurt me more.” His voice was completely devoid of emotion.

“How do you feel about that?”

“Feel about what? About him keeping me from dying? I hated it at the time. He kept me alive just to kill me in his own way, in his own time. The one thing I thought I had control over, and he wouldn’t even let me have that.” His voice started cracking at the end, rough and ragged. He tore at the long grass edging the stone, pulling out handfuls of it and tossing them to the side.

“And now?”

He took a breath like a drowning man coming up for air and then sank down onto his knees.

“I feel like I should be grateful to him for saving my life, now that I’m back here and free and have my life back.”

“But,” Cami prompted, when he stayed silent for too long.

“Now I’m just in another prison. Still alone, still trapped in a world of bizarre codes of conduct and solitary confinement and everyone having a price. The past always hurts and no future to speak of.”

She touched his arm, letting her fingers curve over the tattoo on his wrist. “Do you feel alone?”

“Most of the time. It’s improved a bit. I’ve started seeing a woman. That helps. I still miss my wife though.”

She squeezed his arm, wanting him to feel some human contact, to start bringing him back out of his head and into his body, back to London. “That’s natural and that’s a good sign.”

“I feel like I did die in that prison. Everything is different and yet oddly the same, like I’ve been resurrected, but I’m the only one that has any memory of who I was before.”

“Have you been to your grave?”

“My grave?” He looked at her for the first time in thirty minutes, pain lines traversing his face as his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Were you declared dead or just missing when you disappeared?”

“I…I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to find out?”

“No.” He coughed to clear his throat. “No, I will.”

She put out her hand to help him to his feet and he took it, though he didn’t need it. When he was standing, she held on to his hand for a moment longer. “You’re not alone.”

“It feels like it.”

“I know. But you’re not alone. Talking about things like this will probably make your nightmares worse for the next few days, but then they’ll recede again. I just wanted to warn you of that in case it happens.”

His eyes sagged shut, exhausted just by the thought that the nightmares could get any worse. “Should I do anything different?”

“No. I’d like to see you a few times a week for the next few weeks though. Once this starts bubbling up, the best thing to do is to process as quickly as possible. It’s going to be a shite few months, but you will feel better at the end of it.”

“I can’t promise you certain times.”

“I know, but I want to put it on a schedule so you realize that you are just as important as all the people of the kingdom that you’re trying to protect.  _You_  are a priority now.”

He made a noise that in other men she would have suspected was a half-hearted laugh.

“I’m serious. You’re allowed to take care of yourself.”

“Is that my new daily affirmation?” He gave her the closest thing she’d seen from him to a smile in their entire conversation. “I’m allowed to take care of myself.”

“If you don’t stop sassing me I’ll make you say it fifty times every morning.”

“Yes, sir.” He saluted her again and they left the cemetery.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place between episodes four and five of series eight of Spooks.

Cami sat in her bland government office overlooking a boring car park and fought her way through the last of the paperwork for the day. She had saved the letter certifying an SAS agent as fit for active duty again for the last thing. Some days, you just needed to end on an up note. She was signing her name and title on the forms that accompanied her official evaluation when her mobile rang. She hit the answer button without looking at it.

“This is Dr. Reynolds.”

“Doctor.” The voice sounded amused. “This is Jeremy.”

She picked up the phone and turned off the speaker as she sat back in her chair. “Tell me you’re not calling to cancel your appointment this evening.”

“No. I really need to see you actually. I was wondering, though, do you know where Tilbury Water Tower is?”

 Cami scratched her forehead. “Vaguely. I’m sure Google can give me a more exact location.”

 “Would you mind if we had our appointment there tonight?”

 Cami frowned at the odd request. Tilbury was at least 45 minutes from London. “I’m not wandering into the middle of an active operation am I?”

 “No.”

 “Alright then. I’ll leave the sidearm at home. When did you want to meet?”

 “In about an hour? Will that give you time to drive out there?”

 “Depends on traffic. Plan for an hour fifteen to be on the safe side.”

 An hour later, thankful for Google and personal GPS systems, Cami walked across the brushy ground of the Thames estuary, the sounds of waterfowl calling to each other echoing through the air. Small derelict structures dotted the area, and Cami wasn’t sure which one she was heading for until she saw Jeremy standing near one, looking out at the water. She headed towards him and when he hadn’t given any sign of realizing she was there when she was a few metres a way, she stopped and called his name. She could see the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching from this far away and she didn’t want to test his combat reflexes by getting any closer to him while he was unaware.

He slowly turned his head and looked at her, though she could tell he was still lost in his thoughts. She waited for him to focus on her and then said, “I brought dinner.” She held up a grease-stained bag and two bottles of beer.

 “I get to have a beer?” His voice sounded dusty.

 “Well, I didn’t have time to go home and get biscuits, so there’s no need for milk. And I have a feeling a beer might help take the edge off tonight.”

 “You got that from the call?”

 She shrugged and smiled at him. “What can I say, I’m good. If I’m wrong, of course, I can just go put it back in my auto.” She took a backwards step.

 “No, I’ll take the beer.” She handed him one of the bottles and he used it to point to a decaying cinderblock building. “Want to go sit on that while we eat?”

They made their way over and sat on the ledge formed by a giant rectangular hole cut in the wall. She opened the bag and pulled out two servings of fish and chips and put them between their bodies on the floor. He twisted open the bottle and handed it to her and then picked up the other one. He twisted off the top and took a long drink.

They ate in silence for a while except for him naming the various birds that flew by. He could identify many of them by their vocalizations. Cami watched him relaxing, his shoulders dropping back to a more normal position. She tossed one of the chips as far as she could and watched as a bird flew down and grabbed it. 

“You shouldn’t do that. It’s not good for them.”

She turned to him, bracing her back against the cut edge of the wall. “You know a lot about birds.” 

“My dad used to bring me here.” 

She sat and waited, knowing he wasn’t done. 

“Lushanka was surrounded by wetlands like these. Darshavin, the man who tortured me, would take me for walks out there between sessions. He was the only other person I saw for four years.” 

He slid off the ledge and started pacing. “You were right about the nightmares. They’ve been back with a vengeance. I keep dreaming about him, about being hooked up to an auto battery, about the way he took such care to make sure everything was done with precision. He enjoyed what he was doing. It was like an art form to him or like a sick mockery of being a lover. His touch was always calculated to produce and prolong the most pain possible.” 

He picked up a rock and threw it at a distant two storey structure but she heard it fall short of its goal. 

“When I got to work on Monday morning I learned he was in the country, that he had been caught entering without correct papers and had broken out of the Clarksdale Immigration Center.”

He threw another rock and it fell short as well.

“He played me. He got in contact with me and I thought I was working him for information, and he played me.”

He kicked at the scrubby brush. “It was like being back in Lushanka; he brought me out to these damn wetlands and played me.” 

“Where is he now?” She knew she was walking a delicate line; she shouldn’t ask for operational details but she needed to know how likely Jeremy was to break. 

“We gave him back to the Russians. They’re probably torturing him now if he’s not already dead.”

She nodded. “Then you must have succeeded in the end.” 

He stopped kicking at the sinewy trunk of a shrub and looked up at her. “I couldn’t do it on my own, though. I had to ask for help from Harry and Ros, from the Russians. I couldn’t do it on my own.” 

She tilted her head as she watched him. “You’re used to surviving on your own, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” 

“It must be difficult learning to trust people again.”

His laugh sounded like it hurt him. “The woman I’m seeing, she works for the CIA. I caught her breaking into my flat and trying to bug it.”

“What did you do?”

“Honestly?” Again his laugh sounded pained and he kicked at the shrub again. “I ripped her shirt open to check for a wire and then I almost hit her when she wouldn’t tell me what she was doing there and then I,” he paused and rubbed his forehead tiredly, “I trashed my flat a bit. Flashed back to my suicide attempt.”

“That’s a rather strong response.”

“She walked in while I was negotiating with Darshavin.”

Cami thought she must have misunderstood. “When you were on the phone with Darshavin?”

 “No. He was in my flat.”

 Cami really didn’t want to believe what he was saying. “He broke in?”

“No, I invited him.”

 “Hmmm.” She was worried that he had done that, but for right now he needed to get his story out. She wished she had a notepad with her to jot down all the things they would need to address in future sessions.

 He rolled his eyes at her noise. “I know.”

“Know what?”

“That it’s against all the rules.”

She smirked. “Why is it against all the rules?”

“Because it makes the agent vulnerable in too many ways.”

Her smirk disappeared. There were lots of reasons that it was verboten to bring a contact in your flat. Him identifying vulnerability indicated that it was the one that was most important to him, the one he had most consciously violated. “Is that why you invited him there? To recreate a feeling of vulnerability?”

“I knew it would be a safe place because no one would look for us there.”

“So you feel safer with the man who tortured you for four years than with your colleagues?”

“No, it’s not like that.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I needed him to trust me.”

She shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the dirty cinderblock floor and facing him. “Like he got you to trust him.”

“I needed information from him.”

“Like he needed information from you.”

He didn’t say anything but picked up another rock and threw it, a quiet grunt sounding in the dusky light.

“Did he give you the information you needed?” she asked his back. 

“Eventually.” The word came out across gritted teeth as he threw another rock. 

“And so you saved the day all by yourself.” 

“No.” His arms slumped back down to his side, rock still in his palm. “I had to get help.” 

“Did Darshavin ever get the information he wanted from you?”

He whirled on her. “I am not a traitor.” His fingers were playing about the rock, almost forming a fist as Jeremy fought the rage surging through his body.

“I’m not saying you are. Answer the question.” She said the words calmly even though she kept an eye on his hand. 

“No. I never gave them anything, not through four years of solitary, not through 17 straight days of torture, not through waterboarding. I gave them  _nothing._ ” The tendons in his throat stood out in stark relief against his neck as he snarled the last word. 

Cami was not looking forward to dealing with the waterboarding. She had no idea how long it would take him to work through that damage. “So you broke him in one day. Something he couldn’t do to you in four years.” 

“Because I had something he wanted. He could never give me anything that would outweigh the price of betraying my country.” 

She nodded. “Loyalty is very important to you.” 

“Of course it is. It should be for everyone.”

“But it’s not.” She tilted her head and considered him through narrowed eyes. “Did you know that the woman you were dating was CIA?” 

“Am dating. We’re still dating. And yes I knew.”

Cami fought back the surprise that his words evoked in her. “And even though she was disloyal to you, you forgave her.”

He shrugged, looking almost helpless, and for a second she had a glimpse of him as a boy, trudging around the estuary with his father. “She was just doing her job.” He sounded exhausted. 

“Her loyalty to her job trumps her loyalty to you?” 

He looked confused by the question. “Of course. My loyalty to MI-5 trumped the loyalty I had to my wife.” 

“That’s interesting.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He pivoted back around and chucked the rock he had been playing with at the building. She heard it land in the dirt. 

Cami sat back slightly, surprised by the ferocity of his response, though trying not to show it. “Everyone has their own ranking of things that are important to them. Usually having a job as the most important facet of your life would be a matter of concern.” 

“Usually? Are you concerned about my priorities?” 

“Should I be?” 

His jaw jutted forward as he breathed out through his nose, sounding like a bull about to charge. “This is why I hate psychiatrists.” 

“That’s fine because I’m not a psychiatrist. Should I be concerned about your priorities?”

“You just keep poking and prodding, don’t you.”

“Yes. I do. Should I be concerned about your priorities?” 

He advanced on her until he was inches away from her face. “Why are my priorities so important to you?”

She didn’t back up. If he ever thought he could intimidate her, she would never be able to get him to open up. “Why are you refusing to answer the question?”

She sat there impassively while he glared at her. He had a good glare and part of her felt like she was poking a tiger with a stick and counting on the tiger’s training not to savage her, but she had faced worse than this. When he didn’t say anything after a minute, she said, “I’ll just keep asking the question until you answer it. Or until you find another way to make me shut up.” 

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?” 

“You could hit me like you threatened to do with your girlfriend. I’m sure you’ve got enough force in those fists to break my jaw if you put your mind to it.”

He stepped back, a horrified look flashing across his face. “I wouldn’t…I would never…I don’t hit women.” 

“Unless they question your loyalty. Isn’t that what I’m doing by questioning your priorities, your commitment to your job above everything else?” 

“I didn’t hit Sarah,” he snarled, skewering the words one by one.

“You threatened to.” 

“But I didn’t.”

Again she tilted her head, aware it made her look innocently curious. “Why not?” 

“Because she told me what I need to hear. Does that satisfy you?” He picked up another stone and threw it and she heard it hit the building. “I didn’t hit her because threatening her with it worked.” 

“Would you have hit her if she hadn’t told you what you needed?” Her voice was perfectly neutral, as if she were inquiring about the time. 

He stared at the ground for a long while and then came and leaned against the wall next to her. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know anymore.” 

“Did you ever hit your ex-wife?”

“No. And I never had an urge to either.” 

“I’m wondering if seeing Darshavin and Sarah together allowed you to transfer the anger you feel at him for his treatment of you to her for her treatment of you; the idea that they both were expecting you to be a traitor has linked them in your mind.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You did describe Darshavin earlier as a lover and the brain has a curious and infuriating habit of linking things together in odd configurations.”

 He was quiet as he thought about her words. 

“Alright,” she said, “give me your coat.” 

He pushed himself off the wall. “Are you cold?” He shed his coat and handed it to her. 

“No, but we’ve talked enough for tonight. I can feel the anger vibrating off you like a hive of bees. I want you to throw rocks. I want you to yell something you’re mad at with every throw. And I want you to imagine whatever it is you’re mad at is the rock. Throw it as hard and as far as you can.” 

He stood there unmoving. 

“I know it sounds stupid, but trust me. Throw some rocks and I’m going to get something out of my vehicle for you while you do.”

He picked up a rock and stared at it in his hand. He yelled something in Russian and threw it and it hit the building. She could hear either the rock or the cinderblock it had hit cracking. The sound of him yelling trailed after her to her auto and back, along with the sound of rocks consistently hitting the wall. 

When she got back, she watched him throwing rocks until he started to slow. She didn’t want him tiring out completely, so she said, “I have one more activity for the evening.” 

He turned to look at her. “Do I want to know why you keep a sledgehammer in your auto?” 

“I borrowed it from my brother. I’m doing some remodeling at home.” 

He nodded. “Do I get to throw that now?” 

“Not exactly.” She stepped up into the building they had been sitting on. “Is this where Darshavin brought you?” 

He nodded. 

“I imagine it reminds you of your cell in Lushanka. Cold, dirty, cinderblock walls…” She watched him as she spoke and could see the muscles in his shoulders and back tense under his shirt. That was his only response. She handed him the sledgehammer. “Go to town.” 

She stepped back out of the building and watched as he turned in a slow circle before he lifted the sledgehammer and took a ferocious swing at the broken wall. It knocked a few cinderblocks loose. He took another swing and then another. The dust started to rise as block after block crumpled before his onslaught. He stopped and rested the hammer against his thigh as he unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it from his jeans and took it off. He tossed it to her and picked the hammer up again. She stood and watched for the next hour as he systematically destroyed the structure. 

She tried to memorize the tattoos so she could look them up when she got home. She had almost no experience with Russian prison tattoo iconography, but she could tell they meant something. She pulled out the notebook she had gotten from her auto along with the sledgehammer and sketched them and then made a list of the things he needed to address in future meetings. His identification with Darshavin, his anger, waterboarding, priorities, healthy boundaries, projecting his own vulnerability onto Sarah and responding to the possible traitor with threatened violence; the list went on.

Darkness fell as she heard an ominous creaking sound and Jeremy came charging out of the building as the room started to crumble. They stood next to each other as the trickle of stone turned into an avalanche and they both backed away as the cacophonous sound began to be accompanied by a cloud of dust. 

She looked over at him as she coughed out the fine cloud of cement she had inhaled. His chest and back were caked with damp dirt but he was the most relaxed she had seen him this evening. A thin smile creased his face as he regarded the pile of rubble. 

“C’mon,” she said. “I should have a towel in the boot.” 

He took out his mobile and snapped a picture of the destruction and then followed her, carrying the sledgehammer over his shoulder like a rifle. 

She grabbed a clean towel out of her gym bag and handed it to him. He started cleaning off, and instead of watching his muscular chest emerge from the grime, she turned around and leaned against the bumper, “Alright, good work tonight. I want to see you in a few more days so we can talk some more. As for tonight, go home, tea, warm milk, something calming to drink. No more beer. Jack off.” 

He snorted in amusement at the order to masturbate but she kept talking. “Try and get eight hours of sleep. And I want you to think about what I said about your brain linking Darshavin and Sarah. You don’t have to agree with me, but I want you to think about it some more. And don’t think you got out of something. The first thing I’m going to ask you at our next meeting is if I should be concerned about your priorities.” 

She could practically hear the roll of his eyes. She loaded the sledgehammer in the boot and reached for the towel. 

“I’ll launder this for you.” 

“You don’t have to do that. It will just go in the same wash as my gym clothes.”

“Please? Let me launder it. You put up with enough from me as it is.” 

“If you insist.” She handed him back his shirt and coat. “My house. Thursday night. 7:30pm. If you haven’t eaten dinner by the time you arrive, you’re paying for takeaway.” 

“It’s a deal.” 

She got into her auto and drove off as he put his shirt back on. She would have waited but she didn’t want him awkwardly following her all the way back to London. She needn’t have worried. He passed her a few minutes later with a cheeky wave. 

About half an hour after she got home her mobile rang. 

“I just wanted to make sure the slow poke got home safe.” 

“Don’t make me add aggressive driver to the list of things we need to discuss in therapy.” 

“Good night, Cami.” He paused and then softer, “And thank you.” 

“Good night, Jeremy.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between episodes four and five of series eight.

Cami opened her door a little after seven thirty to see Jeremy standing on her porch with a bag of take-away dangling from one hand. He held it up for her inspection.

“You’re learning.”

She stepped back to let him in and he set the food on the entry table next to the vase of lilies while he hung up the coat. She checked the street before she shut the door, an odd feeling of being watched brushing ghostly fingers against the back of her neck.

“Chicken satay, pineapple fried rice, and pad thai.”

“Mmm, good choices.”

He followed her down the hall to the kitchen and was surprised when she kept walking. “Let’s go out to the garden.”

The small green space behind her house had been lovingly cultivated. Small trees overhung a rocky pile from which water spilled, following a small streambed around the edge of the yard before trickling into a small pond surrounded by cattails, horsehair and sedges. Purple and yellow irises were scattered throughout, peeking through the taller grasses.  A few water lilies floated on the surface, and frogs chirruped back and forth. The dainty white and yellow blossoms of water crowfoot bobbed in the shallows. A small slate patio edged up against the pond, providing a surface for a small table and chairs on which Cami had already set dishes. They ate quietly, the soft burble of water splashing over stones creating a soothing soundtrack to the meal.

Cami finally pushed her plate away.“So, Jeremy, do I need to worry about your priorities?”

A rueful smile crossed his face as he looked down at the remnant of the pad thai on his plate. “No, you don’t.”

“Alright then, we’ll talk about something else.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. “You’re going to let it go like that?”

 “Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes.”

She opened her eyes a bit wider than normal. “Then why would I need to pry?”

His mouth twisted in a bitter smirk. “It’s what you do. You pry into things. Pry and poke and prod.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. So if you say I don’t need to be concerned, then I will leave it at that.”

He braced his elbows on the table as he steepled his hands under his chin. “You’re playing a game with me.”

Cami passively observed the out of character display of overt power he was demonstrating with his body. “Am I?”

“You’re trying to get me to say something self-incriminating so you can pounce on it.”

She sat back and rested her head on her hand, her elbow propped on the arm of the chair. “You are very suspicious.”

“It’s what I do.”

“How’s Sarah?” She cocked her head even more to the side.

Jeremy sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s fine.”

“Good to hear.”

Cami normally would have waited silently for the patient to get nervous and start talking to justify their answer, but that wasn’t going to work with him.

“Did you think about your brain connecting her to Darshavin?”

“They have nothing to do with each other.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. “I can think of at least one thing they have in common.”

His jaw lifted in challenge but she was surprised to see curiosity in his eyes as well. “And what’s that?”

“They are both agents of the intelligence service of a foreign government with whom you have developed an intimate relationship.”

He swallowed down the anger she could in the throbbing vein that had just appeared in his forehead. “Darshavin and I never had sex.”

“I didn’t say sexual, I said intimate.”

His jaw was still tight with fury. “And it concerns you that I’m dating a foreign intelligence agent?”

“I’m not sure if ‘concerns’ is the right word. I think it’s interesting.”

His lip curved in a sneer. “I hate it when you find things interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s your polite way of saying ‘fucked up beyond all fixing.’ It’s like calling civilian casualties ‘collateral damage.’”

She sat forward, placing her hands on the table to show openness. Even if he wasn’t consciously reading her, she knew his subconscious would be picking up on it. “I’m not sure if you’re fucked up. But your willingness to trust Sarah even after she attempted to bug your flat combined with your willingness to bring the man who tortured you for years into your flat is psychologically…worth investigating.”

He picked up the skewer from his satay and started fiddling with it, flipping it end over end. “They aren’t related. Sarah had no choice. She was doing her job. I had no choice; I needed Darshavin to trust me.”

“And you need Sarah to trust you.”

He was watching the skewer go through increasingly complex rotations instead of looking at her. “I don’t need Sarah to trust me.”

“What happens if she doesn’t trust you? If she thinks you’re an intelligence threat?”

The smooth gyrations of the skewer faltered and then continued. “She would leave me probably.”

“Leave you alone. Again. Like Darshavin did.”

His hand closed over the skewer, stopping its movement as he glared up at her. “It’s not the same thing.” Each word came out as an individual sentence.

“Why not?”

“Because she _loves_ me.” The skewer snapped in his hand.

“Do you love her?”

He didn’t say anything, instead choosing to watch a butterfly that had landed on a damp rock near the pond.

She let him sit in his thoughts for a while before she changed the topic to something he wouldn’t be expecting.

“How do you bathe?”

His eyes came back to her. “Excuse me?”

“I was wondering how you bathe. You mentioned before that you’re able to sleep in an actual bed now instead of on the floor. I’ve seen water in the face provoke a panic attack in you, and I’m wondering if you can tolerate a shower or if a tub bath is more comfortable for you.”

“I can shower. Hot water makes all the difference.” He blinked several times. “I just focus on something…pleasant.”

“So you _can_ shower.”

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw lifted the smallest degree. Cami could almost taste the bitter tang of adrenaline in the back of her throat and she knew he had to be feeling it coursing through his veins even though he was fighting to remain calm.

“Do you?”

“Do I stink or something?”

“No. There’s a difference between being able to do something and actually doing it. Forcing yourself to tolerate it versus being able to do it with no problem. Do you find yourself regularly justifying sponge baths in a basin?”

He didn’t say anything but got up and walked to the opposite side of the garden, the side away from the trickling stream.

“You were waterboarded, Jeremy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

More silence.

“Does the sound of the water from the stream bother you?”

“A little. I hate the sound of running water. I sit here waiting for it to pour in my face.”

She nodded, having gotten the answer she needed to set the baseline for him. He had made it through dinner but the moment she had started talking about water he had moved away from it. “Let’s go inside.” He followed her back in the house and into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter while she silently filled the deep kitchen sink with cold water. “You’re right hand dominant, correct?”

“Yes.” He swallowed wondering what she was planning to do with the basin of water.

She took his left hand and rolled up the sleeve to the elbow. “With your permission, I’m going to put your hand in the water.”

“With my permission?”

She looked up at him and waited until he was fixed on her. “You’re in complete control of everything that happens to you. The instant you say stop, we stop. You are in complete control of this.” She waited for him to acknowledge this and when he nodded she took his hand and carefully submerged it in the water. He tried to look bland but she could see that his pupils had dilated and there were fine tremors in the muscle along his jaw.

“You still don’t take baths, do you?”

“No.”

“Have you tried since you’ve come home?”

He looked down at his hand being held under the water by hers and swallowed. He could feel the pressure of her hand and even though she wasn’t forcibly holding it under the surface, the weight alone caused him to close his eyes and take a deep breath. “No. I thought about taking one once. It was on a list of things to do to reduce stress. The thought of it is enough to make me feel like my lungs are filling with water.”

Cami gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched him stare at his hand. He was breathing through his mouth now and she could tell he was fighting with old memories. “Tell me something about your childhood.”

He looked over at her. “Anything?”

“Did you have pets?”

Jeremy smiled. “We always had at least one dog growing up. My da, he was a big believer that a boy should have a dog. We had this English setter. Huge for the breed. I would try and ride it sometimes when I was little. Mum would let me run all over the hills with that dog. She said it had more sense than I did to keep me out of trouble. We’d come home covered in mud and burrs and leaves in my hair and frogs in my pockets and she would hose us both off in the yard.” He stopped and Cami waited as he searched through his memories. “Heathcliff. My da had named the dog Heathcliff. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

“It sounds like you had a nice childhood.”

He nodded, a phantasm of a smile passing across his face. “I don’t think childhoods like that exist anymore. We’re too scared of strangers. They pretty much let me run wild through the countryside. My da, he was a minister. He got into a bit of a scrap with some of the locals about me. He believed in baptizing by immersion, ‘like John the Baptist did with the Lord Jesus’,” he imitated his father’s heavier accent, “and he always used one particular lake to do baptisms. Every Easter, Christmas, Pentecost, All Saints… the big days in the calendar, he would lead the congregation to the shores of this lake and call for baptism of the believers. He always had a better response at Easter than Christmas. That was a cold lake in December.”

He laughed to himself. “Some of the old biddies were walking along the lake one day and saw me baptizing Heathcliff. I couldn’t have been more than six and Heathcliff was probably bigger than I was, but he had the patience of a saint. Apparently I thought he was full of the devil for I kept baptizing him until he was half-drowned. They marched over to the rectory and demanded that Da beat me with a switch until the devil was out of me. He told them that I was following in the path of St. Francis and it was a sign of me being full of grace. You should have heard the harrumphing from those old ladies. They gave me the evil eye every Sunday for years after that.”

Cami couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a little Jeremy walking down the aisle at church to the front pew under the baleful glares of grey-haired old ladies..

“And what did your father do when you got home?”

“He thanked me for my diligence in making sure that Heathcliff had received the grace of God, but explained that while we were to preach the word to all creatures, they didn’t need to receive the sacraments.”

“Did you believe him?”

“No. I asked him why humans mattered more than all the other animals that God had created.”

She leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You were always a skeptical soul, weren’t you?”

“I drove my parents to frustration. I know children ask why all the time, but I was worse than most.”

She shook her head in amusement. “What was your father’s answer?”

“He said that God provided rain to baptize all the animals because they couldn’t speak to perform the sacrament.”

She cocked her head to the side as she watched him smiling in remembrance. “And what did you think of that answer?”

He chuckled and looked down like a naughty child trying to avoid getting scolded. “The next time it rained I chased all the chickens out of the coop and made sure they all got soaking wet.”

Cami laughed, and when Jeremy looked over at her with a bit of mischief dancing in his eyes she fought back a cheer of success. “I bet your mother wasn’t too happy about that.”

“No. They didn’t lay for a week. And she made me have porridge for breakfast for two weeks after instead of eggs and sojers. I _hate_ porridge. And my da called me Wet Francis for a year.”

Cami wondered how deeply Jeremy had buried this mischievous child and happy past. “You can take your hand out.”

Jeremy looked down, surprised to see his hand alone in the water. He couldn’t remember Cami removing hers. He pulled it out and she handed him a tea towel.

“You’re a natural at this.”

“At what?” His eyes focused on her with a questioning look.

“It’s called exposure therapy. Controlled triggering of a stress producer. We ate outside because I wanted to see how sensitive you were to water stimuli. You were able to control your response until we started talking about the water directly. In here, you put your hand in the water and I deliberately evoked a negative response. When I asked for a memory, you started telling me about water memories. Getting hosed off, baptizing your dog, playing in the rain. Normally I have to direct a response to get one that on target but your mind was offering them up freely.”

“Is that good?”

She smiled at the frayed hope in his voice. “Very good. We’re going to do this in increasing amounts as we proceed. We’ll talk through your memories. Part of your therapy will be talking based. You just need to purge the poison. But with your consent, I’d like to pursue exposure therapy as well. We’re going to rewire the memories your brain immediately attaches to certain stimuli.”

“And you’re eventually just going to shove me in a swimming pool and see if I manage to get myself out without drowning.” His laughter rang hollow in the cozy kitchen.

“Maybe not that extreme, but you’ll get more and more comfortable with water. Right now I want you to work up to showering every day and no more sponge baths.”

He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“I have a match Monday evening. Do you want to come by Sunday afternoon or late Monday?”

“Sunday afternoon.” He looked down at the old black and white tile under his feet. “I was told the location of my gravestone. I was wondering if you would come with me?”

“Of course.”

He looked up at her, gratitude in his face that he couldn’t say out loud. “I’ll pick you up at two?”

“At two.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Cami sat on the cold stone bench and watched Jeremy. He stood, head bent under the lowering sky, unmoved by the cold wind that was blowing across the field of tombstones. He could have been a statue except for the way the wind played with his hair, subjecting it to the capricious whims of the elements. Her own hair whipped around her head, defying her constant efforts to impose order on the chaos.

She had no basis for comparison for what he must be feeling. To stand before a stone cross and to have it bear your own name, identical and indistinguishable except for those few marks engraved with care, must be as close to an out of body experience as it was possible to have. He had been standing there for several minutes now and Cami had sought out a bench to give him the privacy he needed as whatever thoughts were racing through his brain wore themselves out in exhaustion.

She had walked pass the cross at first, looking for one that bore the name Jeremy, but he had stopped at the one he now stood in front of. Lucas North. She had no idea if that was his real name or if Jeremy was, and she supposed for her it didn’t really matter. Jeremy or Lucas or whatever other name he bore was simply an identity he slipped in and out of as needed.

To him, though, it would be important. If it was the name he had grown up with engraved on that cross, it indicated a degree of finality that was going to have far greater ramifications than if it was one of his identities. He finally raised his head and looked out over the rows of markers and Cami took that as her signal to rejoin him.

She stood silently to the side as he squatted down and rubbed his fingers over his name. “It was my parents that asked to have me declared dead.”

“It isn’t standard policy for MI-5 to declare missing operatives dead after a certain amount of time?”

He shook his head. “Not when they are regularly are being given proof of life by my captors.” He straightened back up and looked out over the field of markers again. “My father is a man of God. Death holds no fear for him. The thoughts of what I might be undergoing as a prisoner must have been worse for him and my mum to deal with than the idea that I might never come home.”

“Do you want to see them again?”

He bent against the wind, mirroring the tall juniper trees that were hunkering down in the face of the oncoming storm. “I don’t know. Yes and no. How do I explain where I was? What I went through? It might be a blessing for them to think that I died honorably rather than that I lived the way I did.”

“You lived honorably, too.”

He gave no sign that he had heard her. “They picked the anniversary of my grandfather’s death for my death date. They named me after him. Lucas. Light bringer. He was a Methodist minister too. My father wanted me to be a minister, but I could never see myself following in his footsteps. Too many rules, too many commands from faceless beings that didn’t make any sense.”

“That is the most ironic thing I have ever heard out of the mouth of a security operative.”

Jeremy looked up at her. Or was it Lucas? She wasn’t sure what to call him now. “No, you see, MI-5 works when the rules don’t. We’re in the liminal spaces between failing systems, beyond the rules and guided by our own instincts and beliefs. We are the final say.” He had straightened against the wind while talking, his shoulders thrust back and his jaw rising.

“Do you enjoy that? Being the final word?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s a very therapist question.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’d rather that I do it than someone without my ethics.”

“Is that why you went back to work so quickly when you were released? So that you could be the one making the decisions again, rather than other people?”

He turned the collar of his coat up and then shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “There was no sinister need to be in control after being a prisoner for so long if that’s what you’re getting at. I needed something to do to keep myself occupied rather than stewing in my thoughts. I’d sat around for eight years. I needed to be doing something.”

“Did you ever considering retiring from MI-5? Doing something else?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“Really?” She scratched at her jaw where her blowing hair kept tickling against it. “Eight years in a Russian torture camp and you were always determined to come back to work? No thoughts of saying, ‘Fuck it, when I get back I’m quitting and going to live on a beach somewhere so distant they don’t even have phones.’?” Her head cocked to the side.

“No.”

“And your wife? Did you think of her?”

He took two steps towards her and lowered his face so he was at her eye level. “I know you don’t approve of my priorities. Leave Elizabeta out of it.” His lips firmed into a tightly compressed line and she could see a faint twitch in his eyelid.

“I don’t approve or disapprove.” She met his gaze calmly. “I want to make sure you are aware of your priorities and are living in accordance with them.”

“And am I?” The words were as cold and angry as the wind that whipped around them with the first few stinging drops of rain.

“You tell me.”

“I’m standing over my gravestone and still working. I think I’m fine.” He turned and walked back down the rows of markers of the dead and lost. Cami wondered if he could hear himself. This amazing devotion to MI-5 must have been how he survived Lushanka, but she couldn’t help but wonder at what cost to his life. Tortured and tattooed and still loyal to the system – and he was part of a system no matter his speech of operating in the liminal spaces – that had put him in that cell.

Cami watched Jeremy driving, both hands high on the steering wheel creating a box around his body with his arms. The only sound was the rain pelting down and the steady, rhythmic beat of the windscreen wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour.

“Your remind me of my nana,” Cami said.

His brow furrowed, a series of parallel lines that reminded her of the rows of white crosses against the pristine green. “I remind you of your grandmother?”

“I would help her wind her wools. The skeins always looked fine and well-ordered on the outside, but inside they were a mess of knots and tangles and it always took forever to get them sorted and wound into balls.”

He coughed up a laugh. “So, I don’t remind you of your nana, I remind you of a mess of knotted wool.”

“No, you remind me of nana. I asked her regularly why she didn’t buy wool that wasn’t knotted. She would tell me, ‘we all come with our own knots, Cami. There’s no art in making the beautiful into something more beautiful. There’s skill in taking the damaged and making it useful again.’”

“I think  _you_  remind  _me_  of your nana.”

Cami paused for a moment, wondering if that was an apology or a thank you or as close to one as she was likely to get today with as much as she had pushed him. “No, well, maybe, I guess, but that’s not what I was getting at.” She shrugged off his comment. “What I was getting at is that nana never complained about knots and tangles and bad splices. And she knew every which way possible to join two pieces of wool if sometimes there was a break, or a knot so bad that it had to be cut out. I would sit at her feet carefully picking apart knots the size of cherries and practice the swear words I heard from my brothers and I always knew when I had found a particularly naughty one by how bad she would rap the back of my hand with her needle. She never got upset with the wools. ‘Don’t blame them for the poor workmanship of someone else, Camigirl,’ she would say. ‘It’s not their fault and cursing like a sailor doesn’t make it any better.’ I would tell her that swearing made  _me_ feel better.” She saw a faint smile cross Jeremy’s face.  “And then she would make me take the snips and knots and oddments out and hang them in the trees for birds to use to fluff up their nests.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.”

Cami nodded. “She was. When she died I helped my mother clean out Nana’s home. There was an entire closet full of boxes. Each box had a name on it of one of her granddaughters, and at the bottom of the stacks were boxed with her daughters’ names on them. I thought they would have something for us that she had left to us. I opened mine and it was filled with neatly balled wools I had wound for her, each one with the date I had wound it. All the boxes were the same. I asked my mum why nana had us wind all that wool if she wasn’t going to use any of it. Mum said that Nana wanted to teach her daughters that the world is going to hand you a lot of rubbish, and you just have to learn to make the best out of it. So she made sure each of her daughters and then her granddaughters wound a box full of wool. And then Mum said, ‘let me show you something.’ She took me up to the attic of Nana’s house. It was always off-limits, the only place in that huge sprawling Victorian that was, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up I was so nervous about finally getting to discover the big secret because I knew it was going to be something suitably gothic and macabre. Imagine my disappointment on discovering the attic was empty.”

“It was empty?”

Cami smiled at the memory. “It was this huge space up under the rafters and the sun was streaming in beautiful gabled windows and dust was slowly twirling in the light. I turned to my mum in confusion and she pointed to the end of the main space, a long straight section that stretched the length of the house. I saw a target, like you would use for dart games in a pub. In fact, it probably was one of the old dart boards from Sullivan’s now that I think about it. I assumed it was something that my uncles had hung up there for rainy afternoons until I went to look at it. There were piles of photos scattered on the floor underneath it that had obviously been up on that dart board at one point, for they were all as perforated as a colander.”

She paused remembering the wooden planks of the attic littered with the layers of photos. It had been a scene straight out of a serial killer movie and had left her filled with a nebulous horror that still haunted her some nights.

“What were the photos of?” Jeremy prompted when she lingered too long in her thoughts.

“Pictures of some of the old ladies I knew from church, their husbands, my uncle’s ex-wife that cheated on her, a picture of grandpa, political leaders, Tony Blair, pictures from my brother’s funeral, all sorts of things. And I was sorting through these pictures I noticed that the holes in them were of different sizes. They weren’t holes from darts. I looked at Mum, and she was leaning against a table at the other end of the space. I walked over to her and on the table were knives. All sorts of knives.”

Jeremy shot a look at her though his attention was monopolized by the pouring rain. “Knives?” An eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“Daggers, stilettos, a kukri that should probably be in a museum except it’s in my living room, throwing stars, a small axe, a machete, a shakra, just anything you can imagine. If you can throw it and it would stick on impact, she had it.”

“That must have been a bit of a surprise.”

Cami’s sadness from that day hit her again with a rush. Her heart was heavy in her chest and she adjusted the collar on her coat as it itched at her neck. “My mum watched me mentally inventorying the arsenal and said, ‘This was Mum’s secret. She had a temper that could burn buildings to the ground, and it embarrassed her in several situations. So she taught all of us to never complain or get angry, and then she came up here and threw weapons at pictures of whatever made her mad.’ That’s why you remind me of her. You’re insisting you’re fine and that you’re coping and you can handle whatever it is that’s going on in your head and in your life, and you are incredibly strong to be doing as well as you are with the damage you have. But you better be throwing knives somewhere because you are closer to breaking than anyone I have ever seen, and I think it’s going to destroy you when it happens if you’re not very careful or very very lucky.”

Jeremy’s eyes darted over to her and the tip of his tongue flickered across his bottom lip. Color rose in his cheeks as his eyes turned back to the road and he stared fixedly ahead. They drove in silence for a while until Jeremy finally asked, “Do you throw knives in your attic?”

“Sometimes I break legs and earn red cards. Sometimes I pretend to be a world champion boxer in my basement. Sometimes I’ve done other,” she paused and carefully picked her next words, “less orthodox things.” Jeremy looked at her in question but she didn’t elaborate and he pulled up in front of her house.

“Tuesday night sound good for you?” she asked.

He nodded and she made a mad dash for her door. She stood on the doormat and scrambled in her pocket for the key to the door when she noticed that there were wet foot prints on the mat already. She hadn’t been expecting anyone and since it was a Sunday there was no postal service. She carefully unlocked the door and stepped inside. She grabbed the SIG-Sauer P226 from under the entry table and used the mirror in the hallway to look inside her living room. There was no one visible and she moved to where she could see either side of the arched opening into the living room in the mirror hung against the opposite wall. The room was empty. Carefully she went through the rest of the house, checking blind corners in precisely positioned mirrors and though the house was empty, she found several of her tells moved.

She sighed softly and went back into the living room and placed her gun on the coffee table. She looked around for anything out of place and her eye fell on the mantle over the fireplace. Something was wrong. It took her a minute to realize that two of the photos of her nieces were in the wrong order. She stepped closer and inspected the arrangement of pictures. It wouldn’t be hard to misplace them since they were twins and both in their first communion dresses, but Cami always insisted on having separate pictures of the girls rather than as one unit. She ran her fingers over the frames seeking anything odd and then slowly moved them out of the way. The floral garland that bedecked the hearth sat behind it. She bent close to it, scrutinizing each leaf and bud for anything suspicious when she saw a small black bead tucked into one of the roses. She pulled back the surrounding petals and frowned when she saw the bug. Taking her mobile from her pocket, she snapped several photos of it from different angles and then put the pictures back in place in front of it. She crossed the room to her bookshelf and moved the cards from in front of a collection of  _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire._ She pulled out one of the leather bound volumes and the other five came with it. The false book fronts revealed a small safe and she punched in the six digit code. The door swung open and she reached past the stack of passports and the piles of currency from different countries and grabbed one of the phones. She punched a single digit and waited for the call to be answered on the second ring.

“Dahhhhhhling,” The man’s voice on the other end said, “it’s been too long. Please tell Finny that you are coming back to play.”

“I need an exterminator.”

The man’s voice grew serious. “What species is troubling you?”

“It’s a new one. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Well, you’re just all sorts of fun and games. The usual?”

She looked around the room. “Be there in two hours. I still need to see how big an infestation I have.”

“Right. Hugs and kisses, dahling.”

“Right back at you.” 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW for discussions of torture, rape, and swearing. 
> 
> This chapter takes place during episode five of series eight.

Cami walked up to the man resting his arms on the low chain link fence as he looked out over the Thames water traffic. A dark knit cap kept most of his curls contained though the wind played with a few that peeked out around the edges. Boats carefully traversed the river and the docks were noisy with stevedores yelling as cranes carefully arranged cargo containers on ship and on land.

“Still think about getting on one of those and running away from your life?”

“I used to look at those ships and see freedom.” He turned to her and it was like looking into her past. He still had the pale skin and slightly hunched shoulders of a Scotsman who spends every waking hour peering at a computer screen, and his fingers were twitching as though he were typing, even though there wasn’t a keyboard in sight. “Now I just see a security threat. What do you have for me?”

Cami pulled the pictures up on her mobile and handed it to him. He squinted as he flipped through the pictures with long delicate fingers before he looked back up at her. “What have you gotten yourself into, Cami?” Lines appeared around his pursed mouth as he fixed her with those penetrating eyes. A surge of guilt stabbed at her as she wondered if everyone on the team had gone back to using him as default parent, priest, and best friend after she had left.

She shoved back the years of memories and looked down at the phone he was holding. “You recognize those?”

He nodded. “Second time I’ve seen them in the last week. That the first time was from them being pulled from Samuel Walker’s office in the investigation into his apparent suicide doesn’t make me happy, lass.”

She had forgotten Finn’s habit of calling any female under the age of sixty lass. “Samuel Walker? Isn’t he the CIA chief?”

“Was. Funeral’s tomorrow morning. He left a suicide note saying he’d been diagnosed with cancer, but I’d trust that about as far as I could throw him. Which, considering someone threw him down a stairwell, is a poorly chosen phrase.”

She stared out at the water and turned up the collar of her coat against the mist that was threatening to descend back into rain. The wind tugged strands from her braid and set them soaring in the wind. “What do I do, Finn?

“You could come back. Let me throw full weight behind finding out why someone’s creeping you. Think of all the fun times we had.”

She wanted to ruffle his hair like the adorable overgrown child that he was. Fun wasn’t the first word that came to mind when she thought about her years there. “I am technically still active. But no, I need to finish what I’m doing. Can you poke around in the databases a bit? Find any links between me and Walker? I don’t remember ever meeting him, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t moving in the same circles.”

“I will. What do you want me to do about these?” He waved the mobile at her.

“I’m going to leave them for now until I find out a bit more. There’s five all over my house, but since they’re just audio, as far as I can tell,” Finn nodded, “then I’ll just leave them. No use tipping my hand when I can bluff, right?”

“I’ll head in and start trawling the bases.” He transferred the photos to his own device and handed her back the phone. “And keep your head down, Camwyn. If these people will take out a CIA station chief, they won’t have any qualms about coming after you.”

He was worried about her. The stiffness in his shoulders and faint lines around his eyes spoke louder than any words would. He had sent her out before countless times and she had never seen even these faint signs of concern about her wellbeing. She fought the visible signs of her own fear, but she couldn’t stop the adrenaline coursing through her system. Every follicle on her head had felt like it was running off an independent power source since she had found the first bug and it didn’t look like she would be relaxing any time soon. “Sig’s got my back. I’m being safe,” she reassured him, but the words rang hollow in her own ears.

***

Tuesday evening Cami met Jeremy coming up the steps. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She hadn’t heard back from Finn yet and she didn’t know if the unknown ‘them’ were after her or after Jeremy, or even if Jeremy was the one who had placed the bugs to make sure she wasn’t giving his information to anyone else. Until she had a better idea of the source of the eavesdropping devices, she wasn’t going to let anyone she wouldn’t vouch for with her life into her home.

They walked slowly through her quiet residential neighborhood. Too old to be trendy, too young to be gentrified, it was filled with families with children in boarding schools and off to university. Flower boxes proliferated and the little patches of concrete that passed as front gardens had been replaced with beautiful wrought iron fences surrounding cunning gardens grown entirely in pots. One neighbor had even put in koi in a huge old barrel in his front garden, complete with a willow tree drooping over it. That had been about a month before she decided she wanted a stream and pond in her back garden. Keeping up with the Jones’s had turned into a bit of a competitive sport with her as it had with all the families in the neighborhood, but it was one of the reasons Cami had chosen the house; she could count on her neighbors to notice anything and everything that happened on their curving little street. A few questions to the older woman next door had yielded that there had been a black auto parked on the street off and on for the last week, and yes it had been there Sunday afternoon. That hadn’t helped her rule Jeremy in or out, and so they walked.

Cami had swapped her normal bright teal jacket for a less noticeable black, and she and Jeremy were a matched set in dark jeans and pea coats with the collars up and hands buried in pockets. Once she was sure there was no one behind them, she asked, “Thrown any knives lately?”

He shook his head. “Work’s been a bit demanding the last few days. How about you?”

She mentally frowned. He needed to be getting out some of the tension he was facing in his day to day life on top of the poorly contained emotions bubbling up from his past. “I got a yellow card in my match last night,” she confessed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the change in his cheekbones that signaled he was smiling, even though his head was down and his mouth was hidden by his collar. “What did you do?”

She hunched her shoulders up around her ears. “I still maintain it was a completely legal defensive move on an attacking player.”

“Slide tackle?”

“I was going for the ball.” She saw the edges of a sardonic smile sharpen his cheeks again. “You managing to shower every day or are you still opting for sponge baths?”

“No more sponge baths.”

She smiled into her collar. “That’s good. How difficult has it been for you to make yourself shower?”

There was a faint pink in his cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the wind or if he was blushing. “I open the door to the enclosure, and if I find myself hesitating, I think about my dog. About Heathcliff.”

“And that helps?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s just me and Heathcliff getting rained on like we have so many times.”

She smiled, picturing Jeremy and his dog out running through the rain. “Good. How are you sleeping?”

“The nightmares aren’t as frequent. I haven’t dreamed about Connie in a week or Darshavin in a little less than that.”

She turned a corner down a side street that she knew dead ended in a school. At this time of evening, it should be empty and she would have a good view of anyone approaching. “That’s good too.”

“Is there a way to prevent nightmares?”

She looked over at him, surprised that he was asking for help. “Altogether? Or something specific?”

“We got some intel today confirming something that Darshavin said to me when he was here. When he was bargaining for me to not give him back to the Russians. I thought he might have been playing me, but he was telling the truth.”

Cami checked over her shoulder at the empty street before steered them into the schoolyard and they walked across the concrete painted with the lines for games she had long forgotten. “Do you regret giving him back to the Russians now?”

“No. It’s what he deserved.” His chin was up as the trees bordering the school cut the wind and gave them a small oasis of calm. “But I couldn’t tell when he was lying or when he was telling me the truth.” He retreated back into his coat.

“That concerns you?”

“I need to be able to trust my instincts.” He sat on the bench of one of the circular tables that dotted the yard like multicolored mushrooms. He let his back rest against the table as he stared out at the swings idly swaying in the breeze. “Sarah brought over some intel this morning, and when I tried to kiss her, she fobbed me off. And I was angry at her. I wondered if she was playing me; if everything she says to me is just to string me along as an asset. Darshavin made me doubt myself, and you’ve made me doubt Sarah.”

Cami sat on the bright purple table, resting her feet on the red bench next to where Jeremy sat. “How did I make you doubt Sarah?”

“You keep telling me that my relationship with her is just a mirror of Darshavin and me.”

“I haven’t said that; I’ve said it bears similarities. I could tell you the world was flat, but there’s enough evidence to the contrary that I couldn’t make you doubt the world was round. If you doubt Sarah, there’s something that is giving you reason to doubt her. I’m not saying its proof. I’m saying that there are things that are open to interpretation either way, and your brain is picking up on them. That’s a good sign. It means your instincts are working.”

He thought about this silently for a minute before his eyes narrowed. “But Darshavin, I couldn’t tell with him.”

Cami couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or not that he was actually considering the linkage between Darshavin and Sarah. Right now he was using it to defend Sarah; if his instincts were faulty with Darshavin then they were faulty with Sarah as well, and he could ignore his growing doubts about her. Her primary concern right now was breaking the hold Darshavin still had on him. “He spent four years torturing you, Jeremy. He knows you better than anyone on this planet. I would have been more surprised if you could tell the truth with him than that you couldn’t.”

He had the face of a lost child seeking someone to rescue him. “Should I trust Sarah?”

Cami responded quietly. “That’s not a decision I can make for you.”

“I love her.”

That was new. He hadn’t said that he loved her in their previous discussions. She wondered if his emotions had deepened that much or if he was trying to convince himself. “That’s nice.”

 “That’s nice?” His eyebrow lifted eloquently in contrast to the few words he had said.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the fabric press her handgun tighter against the small of her back. “Love isn’t trust. And you can’t really love someone you don’t trust. Not in any meaningful way.”

“So you’re saying I don’t love her?”

Cami polished her professionally detached mask and put it on. “Do you trust her?”

“I want to trust her.” He picked at a peeling section of red paint. “It irritates me when others at work question the information she gave me. She’s my girlfriend and I feel like I have to defend her, but they all behave like I’m stupid for trusting her, which makes me wonder if they’re seeing something I’m not.”

She tilted her head as she watched him deface the bench he sat on. “You’ve said yourself that her highest loyalty is to her job. She tried to bug your flat before. Why are you surprised by their lack of belief in her unfailing veracity with you?”

The muscles in his jaw clenched as he flicked away the chip of paint he had removed. “Can we change the topic please?”

Cami was all too happy to get back to the root of the problem. “Yes. Let’s talk about your nightmares. Tell me where Dasharvin is now.”

He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “In Russian custody. If he isn’t dead already.”

“Does he have any ability to hurt you now?”

“No.”

Cami knew she was going to have to force the issue. “Does he have any ability to hurt you now?” she repeated with a bit more force.

Anger flared and was quickly shoved back down. “No.” He sounded more emphatic this time.

Cami slipped off the table and sat on the bench next to Lucas. “I’m going to touch you now if that’s alright with you.” He nodded and she took his hand and closed her fingers over his wrist, checking his pulse. “When you think about Darshavin, what do you picture?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before he started to talk and tell her of his years with Darshavin. The image that kept popping up was the two of them in Jeremy’s cell, with Jeremy strapped to a metal chair, doused in water and sweat and tears, and being electrocuted. He came back to that image, with Darshavin repeatedly sending searing pain tearing through his body and then healing him enough to withstand another round of abuse.

“I want you to fix that image in your head, Jeremy.” She said quietly. “I want you to concentrate on him standing behind you while you sit in that chair.”

He nodded.

“Now stand up.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m tied to the chair.”

“Imagine the bonds falling off. They weaken and disappear.”

He yanked his hand away and jerked to his feet, turning his back on her. “This is stupid.”

Cami sat back against the table and proceeded to do something that she knew was either going to be the best or stupidest thing she had ever done in her professional life, and she wouldn’t know which for another ten minutes. “Fine. I want you to imagine putting a bullet in his brain.”

Lucas turned around and stared at her like she had sprouted another head. “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her chin up. “I was going to do a nice guided visualization where you lock him in the cell, destroy the key and then go and sit in a nice comfortable chair where nothing can hurt you, but that’s stupid apparently.” The last few words were marinated in sarcasm, but then she turned hard. “So kill him.”

“No.”

“You’ve killed real people before; why not do it right now? You’re just imagining.”

“Because that’s not who I am.” He was staring her down like she was a rabid dog that would bite if his attention wavered. “I don’t kill people for no reason.”

“Oh, but you  _do_  have a reason.” She stood up and slowly walked towards him. She may be foolhardy but she wasn’t stupid. She would push him but she wasn’t going to use any sudden movements to do it. “He tortured you for years. He electrocuted you. He  _liked_  it. You know he did.” She rested her hand on his chest and played with one of the buttons. “You always end up using the language of lovers to describe the way he cared for you in between sessions. He got off on your pain. Emotionally if not physically.”

His eyes slammed shut. “Shut. Up.” The words came out as barbed as a fish hook.

“Why? Because what I’m saying is true? Because he did, didn’t he?” She breathed the words out against his cheek. “He liked hurting you. He could play your body so well, give him just that little bit of extra excitement that he wanted.”

She sensed his body shifting, an odd combination of moving into a combat stance and curling in on himself like he was protecting his vital organs from the coming blow, helpless to avoid it. He licked his lips. “I swear to god, if you don’t shut up I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.” She laughed at him like she would at a child threatening to have a temper tantrum. “You can’t even imagine standing up and walking away from a chair. You’re not strong enough to walk away from me.”

His eyes opened and he looked at her, their faces so close she could see the dark flecks in his irises that she had never noticed before. “Are you challenging me?”

“Yes.” It was like trying to explain how the world worked to a particularly dull child. “You are so bound to this man that you can’t walk away from him even in your imagination, no matter what he did to you. It’s why you like Sarah so much, you know. Why you’ve convinced yourself you’re in love with her, because you know, deep down inside where Darshavin still lives in the dirty secret recesses your heart, you  _know_  that she’s going to betray you, that she’s just using you.”

His jaw was working side to side as he swallowed back the rage she could see coursing through the veins in his neck and across his forehead that were much more prominent now than they had been a few minutes ago. “She is not. She loves me.”

She’d forgotten how hard it could be to break an MI-5 agent. “Just like Darshavin loves you.” She patted his cheek sweetly. “Did  _he_  deny you affection when he wanted something from you too? Tell me, were your punishments shorter when you were nice to him? Did a smile get you one less beating for the day?”

He stepped back from her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His nostrils were flaring, taking in the oxygen he needed to keep himself going as adrenaline cannibalized his body’s reserves.

She stepped closer to him praying that he would crack soon. She hated doing this but he needed to break soon in a controlled space or he was going to hurt himself or someone else when he finally did, especially if Sarah betraying him was the trigger for the inevitable explosion. “Does he have naked pictures of you, Jeremy? Does he have naked pictures of you doing things to him? Of him doing things to you?” She tried to sound as lascivious as possible, even though doing this to him made her sick to her stomach.

He was panting across gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists. “I swear to god I’m leaving unless you shut up.”

“He does, doesn’t he? Pictures of you sucking him off? Or are they of him fucking you?” She stroked his cheek again, letting her fingers brush against his lips. “Or both? Is that what kept you alive in there for so long? You learned to make nice with him. No wonder you talk about him like a lover. He was. He was your lover, wasn’t he, Jeremy?”

“He was not my lover!” She stepped back from his bellow, giving him room to rage. “He raped me! Do you want to know why I finally tried to kill myself? That was it. He raped me. He couldn’t break my mind, but he broke my body. Are you satisfied?” He turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Is that what you wanted to hear? He raped me. Over and over.” He shook her with each syllable, his face so close to her she could feel his spittle spray across her cheek. “And I tried to kill myself and I didn’t even have that much control over my body. I couldn’t even die because he took that away from me. Nothing I did could protect me and your asinine imaginings aren’t going to change that.”

“You’re right.” She tried to sound as calm as possible though she dug her nails into her palms to fight the trembling. “There’s nothing I can do to change what happened to you.”

“There’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing anyone can do.” His face crumpled as he went from angry to despondent. “Nothing anyone can do.”

She grabbed him around the chest as he stumbled. “I can’t change what happened to you, Jeremy. I can only help you heal.”

“You can’t heal this. No one can heal this.”

She held him as he cried. “Yes we can. We’re going to heal this.” She repeated those words over and over even though she knew he wouldn’t believe them right now.

Eventually she took him back to her house, bugs be damned. She wasn’t going to send him home this broken. She sent him down to the gym to work out his frustrations while she made dinner. He came up about an hour later. He was toweling the sweat from his hair, but she wasn’t going to fuss him about showering tonight. She set a plate of chicken and rice with steamed vegetables in front of him along with a beer. He ate silently.

“You have a choice. Go to Sarah’s for the night or sleep in my guest room. I don’t want you alone tonight.”

“I don’t want Sarah to see me like this.” He had no affect, which didn’t worry her too much at this point, but he did need someone checking on him.

“Let me show you where the room is.” She led him up the stairs and opened the door. He looked inside the room and nodded. “Loo’s just there.” She pointed to the door across the hall. “There’s new toothbrushes in the drawer.” He nodded again. “I’m going to leave you to go to sleep. If you need anything, just let me know. Good night, Jeremy.”

“It’s Lucas.” He swallowed against the roughness in his throat. “My name is Lucas North.”

Cami smiled. “Good night, Lucas.”

She heard him crying a few times during the night but let him be. Crying was normal, and she left him alone. She had violated so many ethical guidelines in treating him already. Going into his room in the middle of the night for anything less than a full emergency was out of the question. He was gone when she woke up.

***

Lucas answered the phone on his desk. “This is the front desk. A woman dropped off a parcel for you. We’ve screened it and it’s safe. Would you like someone to bring it up to you?”

“I’m just heading out. I’ll pick it up.”

He stopped at the front desk on the way to the garage and was handed a small white box like the kind cakes were packed in. He opened it and found a small stuffed English setter. He flipped open the note that was in the box and smiled as he parsed the almost illegible handwriting.

_You thought visualization therapy was stupid so you’re going to find this downright moronic, but I saw this fellow here at a little shop when I stopped to get a birthday present for my nephew. I’m not saying you have to sleep with him, but I thought a miniature Heathcliff might make a good guardian spirit for your flat and help keep the nightmares at bay._

He smiled and tucked the small dog in his inner coat pocket. No need to let anyone else on the team see the little guy.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for suicidal ideation.
> 
> This chapter takes place between episodes six and seven of series eight of Spooks.

Cami finished typing up her notes from her last patient for the day and was getting ready to spend the afternoon working on grant paperwork when her mobile rang and she thumbed it on.

“I need to see you.”

Her eyebrows rose at the demand. “Do you want to come over this evening?”

“Sarah’s a traitor. She’s killed people. She killed her boss. She almost killed me.”

Cami starting shutting down her computer, making sure she was securely logged out. “Where are you?”

“In her flat.”

She rifled around on her desk for her pen. No matter where she put it she could never find it when she needed it again. “I’m going to come get you, alright? Right now, I’m on my way. Give me her direction.”

She jotted down the information, threw everything she would need for the day in her bag, and ran out of her office. Breaking the speed limit, she rushed across London to where Lucas was, cursing herself. She hadn’t meant that Sarah was literally a traitor when she had been pushing Lucas, but he was going to take it that way. He was going to think that she had been able to see it without even meeting her, and he couldn’t.

She was almost to Sarah’s flat when she realized the significance of one of the things Lucas had said. Sarah had killed her boss. That would have been Samuel Walker. If the bugs that were in Walker’s office where the same as the ones that were in her home, then it was likely that Sarah was the source of her insect problem. Shit. She couldn’t take Lucas back to her house until she knew more, and she was going to have to call Finn again. Damnit. All her secure phones were in her house.

She took the stairs up to Sarah’s flat two at a time and knocked on the door before she opened it. “Lucas?”

There wasn’t an answer but she carefully walked inside anyway. Her hand twitched towards the small of her back, reaching for the firearm that wasn’t there. It had been years since it had been part of her skin and strapping on the holster had been as unconsciously accomplished as breathing. She slowly stepped down the hallway, the wood floor much too loud under her feet for her liking. She was telegraphing her position to anyone who wanted to know it. She glanced up the staircase before she stepped into the open lounge. A large blood spatter decorated one wall, but it didn’t seem to be from Lucas, who sat on the floor, slumped against one of the floor to ceiling windows. Quickly checking to make sure no one else was in the room, she crossed to his side and squatted down next to him.

“Lucas, I’m here.”

He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “I want to die.”

“That’s understandable. Do you have a weapon with you?” He held up his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of a Glock 17, his trigger finger extended down the length of the barrel.

“Will you give that to me?” She slowly held out her hand, palm up.

“Why?” He looked at the gun and then raised his eyes to her though his head was still slumped. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill myself.”

“Because you don’t really want to die.”

“I do. I want it to be over. I thought coming back would fix everything, but it doesn’t. It won’t. It can’t.”

She gently placed her hand on his knee. “If you wanted to die, you wouldn’t have called me. You’re hurting, Lucas; you’re hurting more than most people will ever experience, and you are still alive. You are so strong.” She squeezed, anchoring him to someone else besides his own suffering body.

“I’m not. She was going to kill me. Right there,” he gestured to the middle of the room with his free hand. Cami kept her eyes on him and the gun, every muscle tensed and waiting for him to use it. “Do you know what I did?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I asked her to take me with her.”

He wanted to see disgust or judgment in her expression. He wanted her condemnation but she wasn’t going to give it to him. “And what did she say?”

“Nothing.” He looked away, gazing sightlessly at the door. “She just left.”

 “Why do you think she let you live?”

His head fell back against the glass. “I don’t know. To make me suffer more?”

“Can I suggest an alternative?”

He blinked slowly, as if it exhausted all the energy he still had.

She slowly rubbed her hand back and forth on his knee. “I think she loved you.”

“Then how could she betray me like this?” he howled in rage as the tears flooded his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, physically stopping them from flowing.

“Because people aren’t created all at once, Lucas. You have the little boy version of you still inside, and the prisoner in a Russian torture camp, and the young man you were in college, and they all have their different priorities. Sometimes, the priorities of our different parts clash.”

“You think part of her loved me?”

Cami nodded. It was the only thing that made sense. “I think she did. And whatever commitments she made before she met you couldn’t override the strength of that love. She should have killed you Lucas, you know that. But she didn’t. She couldn’t force herself to kill you.”

The sound he made was somewhere between anger and anguish. “Loved by a traitor. And no one else.”

“No one sets out to be a traitor, Lucas. Just like no one sets out to be a prisoner. We do things because we believe in them. Your beliefs kept you alive in Lushanka. Her beliefs weren’t strong enough to do what she should have done. You are stronger than her.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“I know. I’m going to say something, and I don’t know how you are going to respond, but I think you need to hear this right now.”

He didn’t bother speaking, choosing to just look at her in apathy.

“You are an alpha male. You spent eight years being told you’re a beta, being treated like a beta, being forced to live like a beta. It lasted so long that you’re stuck believing it’s true. And you come home and people expected you to be an alpha male again but inside you still thought you were a beta. And you did what anyone would in that situation. You subconsciously sought out an alpha, but it couldn’t be anyone at MI-5 because you needed them to believe you were an alpha so they would let you work, and your wife has another life now, so you found another alpha. You found Sarah, and she made it safe and comfortable for you because as long as you were with her, everything would be alright. She gave you structure and security and she’s gone now, and combined with breaking your heart because you love her, she’s broken the peace of mind you’d established by having her in your life.”

“What are you saying?”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She was giving him too much too soon. “I’m saying I’m impressed that your brain isn’t spattered all over the glass behind you. That you are still alive tells me that you are still strong at your core.”

He shook his head. “I still want to die.”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem particularly concerned about that.”

She took the gun from his hand without any struggle. “I’d be more concerned if you had fought me for your weapon.” She tucked it into the back waist of her skirt and pulled her blouse out to cover it. “I need you to be an MI-5 agent for a few minutes, and then I’ll let you go back to being Lucas North, alright?”

He nodded.

“Who does the blood belong to?”

“Lewis, one of Sarah’s people. She told me he was after her so I restrained him and she shot him to keep him from revealing anything about Nightingale.”

“Where’s his body?”

“I called it in, along with Sarah fleeing. MI-5 came and claimed the body. I was too late, though. She’d already let Nightingale know we knew about their finances. They had moved the money.”

Cami  started piecing together a sketchy timeline of what had happened, but things weren’t making sense. “When did this happen?”

“Last night.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here all night?”

He nodded.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Alright, one more question then. Did Sarah kill Samuel Walker?”

His head snapped up. “How do you know that?”

“You mentioned she killed her boss, and I saw the funeral on the news on Monday. We have a problem, Lucas, and you’re going to have to trust me.”

His shoulders straightened and he sat up straighter. He was putting back on his agent costume. “What’s going on?”

“Someone bugged my house Sunday while we were out. They’re the same kind of bugs that were pulled from Walker’s office after he died. I think Sarah, or someone in her organization bugged my house. I’m not sure it’s safe for me there right now with her in the wind, so I need you to decide what to do.”

His head cocked to the side as his lips pursed. “How do you know all this? I wasn’t aware of any bugs found in Walker’s office.”

“When I found them, I gave a photo to a friend of mine who specializes in surveillance. He told me about Walker; said they were the only other time he’d seen this particular kind.”

He grabbed her by the wrist. She could have dodged him, but he needed to feel in charge of something right now. “Who is your friend, Camwyn? Why does he have intelligence that MI-5 doesn’t?”

“He’s my uncle. He works for SAS.”

“What are they doing with intel on a domestic death? Shit.” He pushed himself to his feet. “You’re going into a safe house until we find out what’s going on with this.”

Cami stood and looked at the floor. She knew it was sensible, and was what she would have ordered had the situations been reversed, but the thought of being confined like that made the acid in her stomach churn. “Let me call my uncle and see if he knows anything else.”

“No.” He took her phone from her. “We trust no one from here on out.”

“He’s my uncle, Lucas. You can’t really think he would do anything to hurt me.”

“Welcome to the new world, Cami. These people have infiltrated every national government, intelligence agency, everything. They have more power than you can possibly understand, and even if your uncle isn’t part of this, he could be reporting to someone who is. You can’t tell anyone.”

He turned around and stared out the window as he called Harry. Cami listened to him report the new information. He turned around and looked at her. “I wasn’t aware of that.” He listened a bit longer, and then nodded. “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.” He ended the call and held out his hand. “I’ll take my gun back now, if you don’t mind.”

Cami pulled it out of her waistband and handed it to him, grip first.

“Harry doesn’t trust any of our safe houses or us being in the system so Tariq is creating us new identities and registering us at a hotel. He’ll dead drop the keys to the room. When were you planning on telling me you’re SAS?”

She blinked in surprise. She wasn’t sure if she felt betrayed that Henry had told Lucas about her or relieved that it wasn’t her secret to keep any more. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You’re an intelligence operative. How does that not matter?” He stepped towards her, encroaching on her space but she stood firm. “You’ve been giving me shit for getting involved with Sarah, and I’m pouring out my heart to you.”

Her nails bit into her palms as she fought the urge to give him a taste of the anger he was throwing at her. “First, you and I are operatives of the same government. Second, I have a higher security clearance than you do. Third, I’m not on active duty. I’ve been assigned to a civilian project. And fourth, I have never reported on you, spied on you, or used my security clearance to gain information about you.

“Are you even a therapist?”

“Yes. You talk about loyalty being so important? I swore an oath to uphold your confidence and I have kept that.”

His shoulders slumped a touch. “Well, at least that’s some comfort.”

“This is my job now. It’s why I knew you needed help. I was an intelligence analyst for SAS. I wasn’t the one going out to fight. I was the one they all came back to, the shoulder that got cried on and I knew they needed more than I could give them, so I got permission to seek training as a counselor. SAS paid for it on the grounds that I would specialize in post-combat trauma. So I did, and here I am. It wasn’t anything nefarious.”

He looked up at her from where he had been examining the floor. “Then why didn’t you tell me what you do?”

“Because I haven’t been acting as an agent for years now, and if everything works out the way I have it planned, I won’t be attached to SAS for much longer anyway. There’s a bigger need than I can meet myself and I’m trying to get funding so we can get more mental health specialists for our intelligence agencies. We ask too much of you and don’t take care of you the way you deserve.”

He huffed in derision. “Regular Florence Nightingale.”

“No. I’m just doing what I can. It’s all any of us can do.”

He reholstered his gun and then ran his hand through his hair. “Well, come on then. Let’s go get our hotel keys.”

“ _Our_  keys?”

He smirked before he answered. “Yes. Harry thinks I should stay with you when I’m not working. He thinks you can manage by yourself but thinks it would be good for me to spend more time with you to get the help that I need.”

“How long are we going to be sharing a hotel room?”

“Until they find Sarah.”


	10. Chapter 10

Cami came out of her bedroom where she had been reading when Lucas called out, “Honey, I’m home.” The rat bastard had gotten to leave and go to work and leave her there alone, and then he had the gall to not get back this evening until nine. Three days of being under protection had her temper fraying. It was why she had made a horrible undercover agent; she hated waiting and inactivity. She was more of a just ‘shoot someone and be done with it’ person. At least Lucas had gotten her a gun. It wasn’t her Sig, but it was better than nothing.

“What’s for dinner, dear?” she asked, forcing herself to be polite.

His chuckle grated on her nerves. “Not even a kiss? That’s gratitude for you.” He put the bag of takeaway on the table.

It was easier to cope with the enforced solitude when he was there in the evenings but she ignored him as she went to see what he had brought home tonight. She had called Tariq on the secure phone Lucas had provided her the first day and had him set up an anonymous Amazon account so she could stream movies and download books to read and had decided that she was going to spend the evenings catching Lucas up on pop culture he had missed while he had been in prison. She skipped movies like  _Braveheart_ and  _Shawshank Redemption_ and went for  _Fargo_  and  _The Fifth Element_. Last night had been  _The Big Lebowski._ Tonight was going to be  _The Matrix._ Pursuing any sort of therapeutic agenda while they were sharing such close quarters seemed inappropriate. She took one of the boxes of food – she could tell it was curry by the aroma – and plopped down on the sofa to start eating.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Lucas asked.

Cami put her fork down. “Excuse me?”

“You seem particularly cranky this evening.”

“Well maybe it’s because I haven’t been out of this hotel room for three days. You won’t even let me go downstairs and use the gym.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know why you aren’t allowed out.”

“I’m not some stupid civ. I know how to protect myself,” she snapped.

“Well, maybe start acting like it,” he shot back.

She stood up, her brow furrowing as she moved towards him. “What did you say to me?”

“Stop whinging about proper security measures and suck it up.”

She prodded him in the chest. “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place so maybe you could be a bit more sympathetic.”

He grabbed her wrist and held it firmly, not quite squeezing. “If you remember, darling, I did eight years in a cell in Lushanka. Three days in a posh hotel room is a nice little vacation.”

“But I have things I need to be doing.”

He dropped her hand and took a few steps away from her, his hands flexing into fists repeatedly. “And you think I didn’t? Tell me Cami, where is your husband?” He turned and glared at her, his face hard as marble and his voice icy. “Are you worried he’s going to give up waiting for you after three days? Are there national security matters relying on your ability to keep your mouth shut while you get tortured by video on demand and a Jacuzzi bathtub? Do your parents worry that you are dead? Are they waiting for uniformed officers to show up on their doorstep and confirm that their nightmares have come true? No. They’re not. So maybe you can toughen up and act like maybe you’re grateful that we’re protecting you rather than bitching about everything.”

Cami crossed her arms over her chest as she moved back, resting against the arm of the sofa. “What’s got  _your_  knickers in a twist?”

“Have you turned on the telly lately?”

“No.”

“Coordinated outbreaks of Hindu on Muslim violence in the US and in Holland. I helped stopped the one that was supposed to happen here in London. They were going to burn down an Islamic girl’s school. If you haven’t noticed it’s why I stink of petrol. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go take a shower and get rid of this stench. You’re welcome for dinner.”

He stalked into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. Cami stared at the closed door until she heard the water start running and then she grabbed the remote and flipped the telly on. Her dinner got cold as she watched the ongoing reporting on the violence that was feeding fears of a militarized standoff between Pakistan and India. For the first time she realized the immensity of Nightingale and their reach. Heat crept up the back of her neck as she thought about how she had blown up at Lucas. When he came back out of his bedroom, she quietly said, “I’m sorry.”

He glanced from her to the news flashing across the screen. “It’s alright. I told Harry if he made me rest after I came back that I’d go insane; I can sympathize with how you must be feeling.” He picked up the other box of food from the table and stuck it in the microwave and then leaned against the counter while the machine hummed away. “You haven’t been very therapisty since we’ve been here.”

Cami muted the noise, letting the images continue their constant vigil on the screen. “I didn’t think you would want to be therapisted at while we were living in close quarters. I’ve been keeping an eye on you though. How are you feeling?”

“Less like I want to die.”

Cami returned the smirk that pulled at his mouth. “Well that’s a good start.”

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stared down at his feet. “You think I need an alpha in my life to tell me what to do?”

Cami pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She hadn’t been sure he even remembered her telling him that. “I think you  _want_ an alpha right now. You’re used to having one. I don’t think you need one, though. I think when you start to make decisions for yourself you’ll be on the road to getting healthy again.”

“So today when I disobeyed a direct order and went into a hostage situation, that was a good sign?”

Cami ran her fingers through her hair and shoved it behind her ear. “That depends. Why did you go in?”

“Because I made a promise.”

“And not because you were hoping to die?”

He looked up at her. “I made a promise to an asset.”

 She nodded. “That’s good that you can do that.”

“So how do I stop needing an alpha?”

“You need to start trusting your instincts. After this whole thing with Nightingale is over, ask Harry if you can be lead on some operations. It’s important that you start calling the shots again. I think you’re ready. You called me on my shit earlier; you wouldn’t have done that a few weeks ago.”

He chuckled and it was much less grating than earlier. “Well, I figured that as much as you’ve pushed me around, you could take a little bit of your own treatment.”

The microwave dinged and he took out the hot food and put it on the table in front of Cami. “Eat.” He smirked as he picked up the food she hadn’t touched and put it in the microwave.

“That’s a change.” She picked up her fork and started picking at the food. He put the other container in the microwave and turned it on.

“This has really got you scared, hasn’t it?”

She looked up from the food she wasn’t eating, surprised that he sounded gentle. Gentle would never have been a word she would have applied to him before. “I haven’t been a target in a really long time. I’ve forgotten what it feels like. And it’s different that it’s here in London. London was always my safe place, not to mention I mostly did intelligence analysis. I didn’t go out in the field often.” She pointed at the television with her fork. “Are you going to be able to handle that?”

“Maybe not by myself,” he smiled, “but we’re working on it.”

“It’s Nightingale, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Do you think Sarah’s still involved?”

The easy confidence he had shown the last few minutes melted away as his shoulders slumped and he played with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know. She seemed to believe that if she left they would kill her, but we haven’t been able to find her either way.”

“That’s got to be difficult; the uncertainty.”

“I just wish I knew what she thought she was going to accomplish. What is Nightingale thinking they are going to accomplish by pushing Pakistan and India to the brink of war? What does she think is important enough to make that a worthwhile risk?”

Cami took a deep breath and then stood up. “I normally wouldn’t do this to a client, but can I give you a hug? Regardless of all the geopolitical implications of your relationship, you just broke up with your girlfriend and you look like you could use a hug.”

He looked up at her and blinked several times before he smiled. “That would be nice.”

She walked towards him and he pushed himself off of the counter and stepped towards her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his closed around her back. She could feel how tense he was, knots of tension under her hands. She didn’t think ordering up a masseuse was going to keep with MI-5 witness protection protocols, though. He rested his head against hers and relaxed into her embrace, his own arms shifting so he was enveloping her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on the opposite hip. Cami wondered how long it had been since someone had hugged him; someone other than Sarah.

She felt her pulse slowing and her worries fading away as he held her. It’s not as if she hadn’t been hugged for years like Lucas; her entire family was physically affectionate. It was different to be held by him, though; she wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t family or if there was something else at play, but he made her feel safe even as the world was falling apart around them. His arms tightened and then he released her. She stepped back, looking up at him to see if he looked any better. His eyes caught hers and heat rushed up the back of her neck and made her scalp itch as his eyes dropped to her mouth for a long second before they moved back up to her eyes. She felt herself lean towards him, her lips separating just enough to let her take in more oxygen as her lungs seemed to freeze, and her eyes started to shut before she yanked herself back to reality and whirled around.

Cami let her hair fall forward over her face to hide her heated cheeks. “Um, I think I’m going to make it an early night.” She grabbed the food from the table and headed into her room, shutting the door quietly before she started mentally berating herself. She had no illusions about what this was. He was transferring his need for an alpha on to her on top of normal levels of patient-therapist transference and cabin fever inflamed proximity. It had nothing to do with her and him as people being attracted to each other. She  _knew_ that. Deep in her brain she knew that, but trying to convince the rest of her body to go along with that knowledge was proving difficult. She sighed. MI-5 better find Sarah quickly, she thought, or I’m going to lose my license. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my husband for helping me work out the fight choreography and for thinking its funny when I yell ‘think fast!’ and chuck a gummi bear at him.

“Hello, darling, I’m home.”

Cami put down her book and rolled off the bed, landing in a crouch and then stretching, working out all the unused muscles gone stiff from an afternoon spent reading. She walked into the lounge only to hear, “Think fast.”

She tossed up her hands and grabbed the bright blue objects flying at her. Her fingers closed around padded vinyl and she looked down to see light weight boxing gloves in her hands. He held up a pair of target mitts. “I know you’re going stir crazy. I thought since I’m responsible for your current predicament, I could at least help alleviate a bit of it.”

She smiled. “Give me a second.”

She ran back into her bedroom and stripped out of her pyjamas and pulled on workout clothes, silently thanking the unknown Ruth who had been given the task of packing for her for remembering to include a sports bra. She walked back out into the living room as she pulled her hair back into a tail and fastened it.  Lucas had shoved all the furniture back against the walls, piling the coffee table on the sofa to give them some space to spar. She strapped on the gloves as Lucas came out of his bedroom, pulling a t-shirt on. She couldn’t help but stare at the ripple of his abdominal muscles as his stomach disappeared under the blue fabric. He’d changed into a pair of track pants while she had been changing and he checked the bindings on her gloves before he picked up his and strapped them on. Lucas pulled the final binding tight with his teeth and then held up his hands. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

Cami started slowly, landing a few gentle hooks and jabs to get a feel for the gloves and how much give she could expect from him before she started into a steady rhythm of punches. Lucas watched as she accelerated the rate of her blows, landing them with perfect form. Deciding she was warmed up enough, he started moving the targets, forcing her to adapt to the constant change of position. She kept standing still so he circled, and she side stepped keeping him in front of her. He added in small jabs with his hands so she would have to block his punches and as she kept up with him, he settled into the routine, satisfied that she would be able to handle whatever he threw at her. Round and round they went, bare feet moving over the carpet, both of them bouncing on the balls of their feet as they sought for a weakness. She landed blow after blow on the white targets until Lucas slipped a jab past her guard and softly cuffed her side. She growled and swung at him. He blocked her arm with the mitt and landed another hit to her chest. She stepped back, took a deep breath and blew the air out noisily before she came back into a fighting stance. Lucas slowed down the rate at which he gestured with the mitts signaling for her to hit them, thinking she might be tiring, but she forced him to go faster as she started aiming punches at him if she thought he was taking too long. He sideswiped at her head and she ducked under his arm and landed a solid blow to his side. She stepped back with a satisfied smile.

“You should never drop an advantage like that, Cami.”

She held up her hands just in time as he threw a punch, putting the full force of his body behind it, and she blocked it. She grimaced and tucked her arm against her chest as he pulled back. “This isn’t just a workout for you. Not when you’re in a safe house.”

She frowned but stopped shaking her arm and put her hands up again. They circled over and over, feet constantly moving, bouncing in place, never resting as she sent blow after blow against the targets, and he swung at her repeatedly, forcing her to defend herself. He landed three hits against her torso in quick succession as she started to tire and she pivoted on her foot and roundhouse kicked him, her foot coming in solid contact with the side of his waist. Lucas grabbed her leg, wrapping his arm around her calf and didn’t let go.

“Now what are you going to do?”

She didn’t say anything as she stood on one foot, her other leg firmly pressed against Lucas’s side. He tugged on it and she wobbled, her arms pinwheeling to keep her balanced.

“You always let your anger get the best of you, Cami. You’re not a fighter. If these guys come after you, you have to remember you’re not a fighter. You’re tough, but you’re not trained to do this. Not to the degree they are.”

“I’m SAS.”

He stepped back, forcing her to hop awkwardly on one foot or fall, and her mouth tightened as she hopped to keep from falling. “You haven’t been active in years, Cami, and you do intel, not ops. Whatever they trained you in, hand to hand combat is obviously not where you excelled.”

Her nostrils flared at his smug smirk and she pulled backwards trying to free her leg. He let go and she fought for her balance to keep from landing on her arse, staggering several steps before she regained a steady footing.

“Seriously, Cami. You have anger issues.”

“Oh, so you’re the psychologist now?” She threw a punch and he blocked it.

He jabbed at her and she threw up a hand at the last second to deflect it past her. “It doesn’t take a psychologist to know that about you.”

Again that aggravating smirk. She threw a punch at his face and he threw up his arm to block her jab. He ducked under her arm, grabbed her around the back of the waist and swept his leg against both of hers. As she lost her footing, she tucked into a roll, hooking her arm through his and landed on the back of her right shoulder. She used the momentum of her fall to throw him as she rolled forward and he hit the ground in front of her, the lamp falling off the table and crashing to the floor. The shattering of the lightbulb was the only sound in the room except for their labored breathing as they glared at each other, Cami resting easily on her toes and her fingertips, Lucas in a more awkward crouch as he regained his feet. “You may be bigger than me, Lucas, but that just means you fall harder when I throw you.”

Lucas grabbed at the strap on the mitt with his teeth and yanked it open. “Is that how you want to play it?” He shook the mitt to the floor and then pulled off the other one. Cami hurriedly undid the bindings on her gloves and tossed them to the side while he waited, that smirk having declared permanent residence on his face.  They circled each other, hands held up and fingers twitching as each waited for the other to advance first. Lucas finally closed the gap and grabbed Cami’s right forearm with his left hand. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist as she grabbed his forearm with her other hand. She stepped into him as she snapped his arm up and pivoted, tucking into a ball and throwing him as she moved, putting both of their momentum into sending him flying. He landed in a roll and came back up on his feet. He came after her two more times and each time she turned his force against him, sending him through the air where he would roll and bounce on his feet a few times before he came after her again. The fourth time, as she pivoted and brought his arm up over her head, he tightened his fingers around her wrist and fell backward. She tipped precariously as his weight threw off her balance. He hooked his arm around her neck and then kicked her closest foot out from under her. He grabbed onto her with his free arm as they fell and yanked, sending them spinning in the air as the momentum twisted both of them and she landed on her back with a thud that drove all of the air from her lungs. She opened her eyes to find his face inches from hers, her neck resting in the crook of his arm. His other hand rested on the carpet next to her face as he straddled her thighs, pinning her to the floor.

They were both panting and the slick of his sweat was damp on the back of her neck. The rancid taste of falling for his feint was bitter in the back of her mouth. She stared at his mouth as his breathing came easier than hers and he licked his dry lips.

“Yield.”

She looked up at his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at hers. He was looking at her mouth. She shoved at his shoulders with both of her hands, and he grabbed them and slammed them to the floor above her head and his fingers intertwined with hers as they went momentarily numb.

“Yield, Cami.” It was an order, rough and deep and she could feel the words against her cheek as well as rumbling through his chest.

She tugged at her hands but he held her firmly in place. His eyes were dark as they focused on hers and he said it again, bending down so the words were spoken against her mouth. “Yield to me, Cami.”

She licked her parched lips and with a final tug against his restraining hands, whispered, “I yield.”

He rolled off of her and by the time he got to his feet, she was slamming the bedroom door behind her.


	12. Chapter Twelve

There was a quiet knock on her door while she was drying off from her shower. “Dinner’s here if you’re hungry.”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.” She pulled on jeans and a shirt and braided her wet hair. She had given herself a stern talking to in the shower about professional ethics. It didn’t matter if he was sexy as sin and obviously looking for an easy way to soothe his masculine ego; he was off limits. She had to reestablish the appropriate relationship between the two of them. While him pinning her down with the weight of his body and the smell of his honest sweat may provide nice dream fodder, that was all it was going to be. He was a patient.

She reminded herself of that before she opened her door. He smiled up at her from the sofa, a paper plate of pizza balanced on one thigh and a confidential file in his other hand. His smile was open and friendly and she made herself smile back. Maybe she had been reading too much into those final few seconds of their workout and his demand that she yield to him. Cami picked up a slice. “We’re trusting the delivery guys now?”

Lucas smiled and held up the file. “Tariq needed to drop some things off and an empty pizza box is a convenient size. She curled up on the other end of the sofa, her back against the arm so she was facing him. “Interesting reading?”

“Just work.” He closed the file and put it down on the table. “What film did you have planned for tonight?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you a little bit first.”

“Alright.” He wiped his hands off on a napkin. “What about?”

“How are you feeling? We had a pretty intense session and then with Sarah leaving, you’ve been through a lot and we haven’t really processed any of it together. I was going to wait until we were out of the hotel to do this, but that seems to be taking longer than I thought it would, and it would be irresponsible of me as your counselor to let you go any longer without at least making sure you’re coping adequately.”

A smile of…was that amusement? flickered across his face. Cami wondered if it was that obvious what she was trying to shift the power balance between the two of them, but ultimately didn’t care. He had to know the effect he had on women and his choice to pin her in an overtly sexual manner meant he was using that knowledge to his benefit. So he knew he had gotten to her. What did it matter?

He rubbed his hands against his thighs. “I think I’m coping adequately, yes.”

“How is your sleeping? Are you getting enough?”

He smiled. “You should know that since you send me to bed every night.”

“I send you to your room; I don’t know what you’re doing in there.”

He turned so he was facing her. “Are you asking me what I do in my bedroom?” That smirk was back. She  _hated_ that smirk.

“Is it easier to talk about sex than about your emotions?”

He chuckled and picked up another piece of pizza. “You think I’m having sex in my bedroom?” He bit into it, letting the cheese stretch out until it broke and then gathering the strings into his mouth with his tongue.

You can deflect as much as you want, boy, but I  _will_ out stubborn you. “Why do you want to talk about sex with me, Lucas?”

“You’re the one asking me what I’m doing in my bedroom.” He gestured at her with the slice of pepperoni.

“Are you dreaming about Connie, Sarah or Darshavin?”

The smirk wilted away and he put the pizza back down. “I dream about Sarah every night.”

“Good or bad?”

He shook his head. “Everything with her is bad now.”

“What are the dreams about?”

“Sometimes she had a gun to my head, just as she did that day. But this time instead of just leaving, she says, ‘You’re not even worth killing. You’ll never betray me.’ Other times we’re making lo…having sex and she’s on top and then she starts laughing and turns into Darshavin.”

“Don’t need a psychologist to interpret those.”

“No, not really.”

She titled her head to the side. “Are you in love with Sarah?”

“Yes.” She was surprised that he met her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“If she showed up her now, could you kill her?”

He thought for a while and she couldn’t track the emotions that flickered across his face. His brows lifted, wrinkling his forehead, and he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Good. At least you’re honest about it. If you had answered ‘yes’ right away, I would know you were either lying to yourself or to me. Could you take her in?”

“Probably.”

She nodded. “So what are we going to do about your sleeping? Are they getting worse?”

He shook his head. “The same sort of thing every night.”

“How many times a night?”

“Once or twice.”

“Alright.

“Well, let’s start with the one that links Sarah with Darshavin.”

“So now  _you_  want to talk about sex.” A shadow of the smirk darkened the corner of his mouth.

“I think the other dream is likely to persist until Sarah’s captured. But at least we can try to evict Darshavin from your dreams.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out, his cheeks puffing. “That would be an improvement.”

“Alright. I’m going to ask some questions about your sex life with Sarah and then we’re going to do a guided imagery exercise, if you think it’s worth it. You didn’t like the one I did with you in the chair.”

“I’ll try and cooperate this time. Sex is nicer to imagine than a cell in Lushanka.”

“Right.” She chuckled and then resumed her placid professional face. “In your dream, Sarah is on top. Is that always the way it starts?”

Lucas nodded.

“Was she on top regularly when you two were having sex?”

“No.”

“Was she ever on top?”

“No.” The muscles in his jaw shifted. “I, um, don’t like that.”

“Is that since Lushanka or have you always had that preference.”

He looked down at his hands and the veins standing out along them as his hands constricted into fists. “Since Lushanka.”

“Alright. Are you comfortable telling me how else your preferences have changed? Or do you want to leave that for another time?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound, right?” His laugh was a hollow shell of itself. “I don’t…didn’t let her touch my cock by herself. She would try and I would grab her hand. I had to be in control. No blowjobs. Sex was all about putting a penis in a vagina.”

“Could you be naked in front of her?”

His brows narrowed as he looked at her. “We had sex. I was naked.”

“No, once you got out of bed – did you put pants on immediately, or could you be naked? When you were having sex, was there always a blanket or a sheet covering you?”

“I don’t like having my arse uncovered.”

“Is that new as well?”

He nodded. “If the sheet was slipping I would stop and pull it back up.”

She nodded. “One last question. When Sarah morphs into Darshavin, does she still have a vagina?”

He shook his head.

“Alright.”  She shifted her weight so she was comfortable. There were so many things he needed help with that her heart hurt. The easiest way to deal with the nightmare was to get Sarah not to turn into Darshavin. The rest of the issues would take much longer to resolve. “Do you want to do this here or do you want to lie down?”

“I’ll do it here.”

“Close your eyes.” She waited until his lashes were dark against his cheeks. “I want you to picture yourself in your bed. You’re warm and comfortable. This is your space. Your sheets are soft against your skin. The lights are off, but there’s enough light coming in from the windows that you can see everything.”

She waited a few seconds. “Can you see your bedroom?”

He nodded.

“Now, Sarah is there with you. She’s in your bed with you, on top of you as you make love.” She paused a moment. “Now I want you to imagine yourself flipping her over so you are on top of her. Pin her hands to the bed so you’re the one in control as you make love.”

“I don’t want to make love to her.”

She hesitated. “Have sex with her?”

He opened his eyes. “What if I don’t want her in my bed? I don’t want to turn the nightmare into a good sex dream. I want to stop dreaming about her altogether.”

“Well, that will be harder to do, you have to change more elements of the dream, but it follows the same basic principles. Visualize yourself making her leave. If she shows up in your bed, kick her out. Can you do that yet?”

His mouth firmed into a thin line. “I’m not sure.”

“Then we’ll work up to that. For now, let’s focus on defusing the nightmare.” She leaned back against the arm of the sofa and for an hour she walked him through the visualization, step by miniscule step. She had him imagine which muscles would shift as they moved, where his hands would be, what her hair would look like on the pillow, the feel of her skin, and the scent of his cologne and sweat so that he had created in his brain a memory a false memory of treating her in that exact manner. It was exhausting work for both of them, and by the time she felt like he could use the visualization to help short-circuit his nightmares, she was glad to put in a film and eat cold pizza.

Ironically, she found herself unable to sleep that night and wandered out to the kitchenette to retrieve some leftover pizza from the small fridge, letting the light from the window guide her feet so she didn’t crash into the furniture. It hadn’t all been put back in the same places after their workout. Feeling like she was in uni again as she pulled out the leftover food, she smiled to see that there were fewer pieces than when she had put it away. Lucas must have already been up for a midnight snack. She looked over to his door and saw that it was standing open a few inches. She took a bite of pizza when she heard a noise coming from his room.

She stopped and listened, wondering if their work hadn’t paid off and he was having another nightmare. Then she heard a soft, ‘Oh, god.’

Oh, god, he’s masturbating. Cami yelled at herself to go back in her room and shut the door but she was rooted to the ground. She could picture him in high definition, his hands slowing stroking over his chest, the muscles of his abdomen rippling, his palms brushing over his nipples and the hitch in his breath. Apparently he had added a hands-on element to his visualization.

She wondered, as the pizza hung forgotten in midair in her frozen hand, what kind of pants he wore. He didn’t seem like a boxers man. Maybe boxer briefs. He probably slept in them. He’d pull at the waist of them while he palmed his stiffening cock through the soft knit, tugging them lower, not pulling them off yet, but adjusting them so his cock was more comfortable. He’d go back to teasing himself, imagining who knew what in that head of his as his hands skimmed over his skin again, each muscle taut and defined under that tattoo that covered so much of his chest, and then those words right below his navel, gnothi seauton, moving as his hips pushed upward causing ever muscle in his abdomen to tighten, his cock seeking more than the friction of cotton to rub against. He’d pull out the waistband with one hand, slide his other one under the fabric, touch his cock for the first time, his breath hissing between his teeth as he lightly stroked it. She heard another ‘oh, god’ come from his room.

He must be stroking himself by now to be that loud, to be calling out in that broken of a voice. He probably had a large cock, she decided. He acted like it at least. She wondered what it looked like, how thick it was, if it was slick with his pre-come or if he was using lotion or his own saliva as he stroked it up and down, his fingers tight as they closed around the shaft, his thumb stroking over the head, teasing that spot on the underside, making himself groan even louder.

Cami tried to make herself go back in her room again but she couldn’t. She was getting wet listening to him and it was the closest she’d been to sex since Gideon. She could hear his breathing getting louder, harsher, and the groans becoming more desperate. Another ‘oh god,’ and she could see him throwing his head back, another and his cock thrusting wildly into his hand, and then, ‘yield to me, Cami.’


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Cami stopped doing crunches – remember you were on ninety-three – when Lucas knocked on her bedroom door. She dropped her back to the floor and called, “Come in.” Her muscles ached, not only her stomach which was quivering, but her arms from the pushups and her thighs and bum from the squats she had already done. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to be able to tire herself out enough to sleep soundly tonight, but she was aiming for too sore to get out of bed and go listen at Lucas’s door.

It took Lucas a moment to find her down on the ground. He raised an eyebrow, looking upside down from where she was laying. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and reached her arms over her head along the carpet, feeling her lats stretch and relax. “Just trying to keep myself from turning to jelly since I do nothing but read and eat anymore.”

“We could go another round at boxing if you want.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a bright idea.”

Lucas sat down on the edge of her bed so he could see her easier and leaned over so his face was above hers. “Did I do something to upset you? You’ve barely spoken to me the last three days.”

He felt entirely too close this way. His feet were right by her shoulder and she sat up so he wasn’t looming over her. Cami pressed her back up against the dresser and pulled her knees up against her chest. “No. You’re fine.”

“Then why have you been hiding in your bedroom whenever I’m here?”

Cami wasn’t proud of that, but she didn’t know what else to do. Every time she looked at him, she could hear him calling her name as he came and that memory caused her skin to prickle and knickers to dampen. There had to be a way of getting him to drop the topic without telling him the truth. “I had a match tonight.”

“Your football team.”

“Yes.” She rubbed at the scar on her kneecap. “I’ve already missed one and this is my second and nobody knows why I’m gone.”

“I called the captain of the team and told them you had an aunt that had gotten ill and you were going to be out of town for at least a few weeks while you cared for her.”

She looked up from her perusal of the old football injury. “The same thing you told my patients.”

He nodded. “I did try and give you a cover. We like to give you a life to go back to when we’re done keeping you alive.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You having a match tonight doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding me for three days though.”

Her eyes fell to her knees again and she rubbed the pale scar, remembering the feel of the cleat piercing her skin. “I’m going stir crazy and don’t want you to have to put up with my grouchiness.”

“While that’s thoughtful of you, I don’t believe it. You won’t even look me in the eyes.”

Lying to someone used to interrogating international criminals was difficult. Cami let her head fall back against the dresser and looked him in the face. “I heard you.”

His head tilted slightly to the side. “Heard me what?”

“I heard you masturbating. I heard you say my name while you were masturbating, alright?”

“Oh.” He had the audacity to grin and Cami dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from slapping it off of his face. “It can’t be the first time.”

Her eyes widened at his cheek. “The first time I’ve heard someone calling my name while jacking off? Yes. Yes it definitely was.” Her head bobbed in emphasis.

“No. I mean, you’re a beautiful woman.” He sat back, resting his hands on the edge of her bed. “Surely men have masturbated to thoughts of you before.”

“First, I know I’m not beautiful. Slightly pretty, but stop with the flattery. Second, I don’t want to think about whether or not men masturbate to thoughts of me, but it’s definitely the first time I’ve heard it happening.”

That aggravating smirk was back. “So you’re avoiding me because I did what you told me to do.”

“I didn’t tell you to do  _that._ ” She waved at his bedroom.

“ _You_  told me that orgasms were good for me.”

“I believe I also told you to stick to porn or celebrities,” she shot back.

It wasn’t a smirk anymore. It was the smile of a predator who just sighted its prey. “You don’t think me pinning you to the floor and telling you to yield could have been the beginning of an amazing sex tape?” His voice roughened, but even at its softer volume it stroked along her skin like a thousand kisses.

“Alright, this is completely inappropriate.” She clambered to her feet.

He lounged back on his elbows, making himself comfortable on her bed. “You’re the one always wanting to talk about sex.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not involving  _me_.”

“Why not? Fair’s fair.”

“I’m your psychologist.” She pointed at him. “You’re my client.”

“I’ve never paid you any money.”

She was not going to let him split hairs like that. “There’s still a psychologist-client relationship, regardless of the exchange of currency. I don’t treat my friends.”

He frowned. “But you said you were going to be my friend.”

She sighed and shoved her hair back behind her ears. “I am your friend.”

“Then you’re not my psychologist and you don’t have to worry about anything.” He grinned and she realized he she had fallen for his feint again.

She threw her hands in the air. “Why are you talking me in circles like this?”

“Because you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Her teeth ground together as she fought back the urge to punch him. That hadn’t been a successful tactic before. “You are so frustrating!” She stamped a foot, aware that she was acting like a child but unable to control it.

“So we have sex. What’s the big deal?”

She raked her hair back out of her face again, leaving her hand on top of her head. Yeah. Sex. No big deal. Well maybe it wouldn’t be to  _him._ “Well, even if we can get beyond that whole professional ethics thing, which I can’t, you’re exhibiting text-book symptoms of transference.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re falling in love with your therapist.”

He snorted. “I’m not falling in love with you.”

“Fine.  Then you’re developing an erotic attraction to your therapist. Which happens all the time. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens. Also, you’re still in love with Sarah so you’re not ready to be screwing anyone else. Also also, you’re missing an alpha figure in your life and I’m close and convenient so you’re transferring your needs for an authority figure on to me and that involves sexualizing the relationship since that’s the only way you’ve ever done it before.”

Lucas chuckled, biting his lips to keep from grinning.

“What is so funny?”

“You thinking you’re an alpha.”

She crossed her arms over her chest again. “You think I’m a beta?”

He slowly got up off of the bed and walked towards her. “I think you’re a very picky beta who needs a very special alpha.”

She backed up, wanting to keep her distance, and felt her bum come in contact with the wall a split second before her shoulder blades did. She raised an eyebrow, trying not to show how much he was unnerving her by a display of skepticism. “And I suppose you think you’re that ‘very special alpha’.”

“I think I could be.” He stopped mere inches away from her.

“I think you’re wrong.”

He tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear and let his fingers trail along her jaw. “About me being your alpha or you being a beta?”

“Both.”

A slow smiled spread across his face. “You are a beta, darling. You kick and shout and break legs and have all that anger bubbling under the surface and you think it makes you an alpha. You’re in control and hard working and the smartest person in the room all the time and it’s exhausting, isn’t it? You’re always the one working so hard to keep everyone else together, to fix everything that’s falling to pieces.” He leaned in closer as he talked. “Sometimes though, it would be nice to just let go of all of that and let someone else step in and take care of you, wouldn’t it?”

She swallowed as he waited for her answer. His face was so close that she could almost feel the scratch of his stubble against her cheek, and his hot breath fanned against her ear as he spoke.

“Wouldn’t it, Cami?”

She swallowed again. “Even if I were a beta, which I’m not, I would never choose you as an alpha.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, beyond the issue of your own instability which I’m trying to help fix if you would just stand a few feet further away please and thank you,” she pushed him backwards and he didn’t resist, “I don’t get involved with security services personnel.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have an annoying tendency to die.” The words were infused with pain even though she tried to keep her voice carefully neutral.

Lucas blinked several times and some of the cocky swagger evaporated. “Like your brother did.”

Cami stared at the ground for a long moment. “And my husband,” she finally whispered.

There was an awkward silence. “You were married?”

“For two years, three months and six days.”

“God, Cami. I had no idea.”

She looked up at him and saw what appeared to be genuine sadness. “It’s not something I talk about much.”

“Was he in the SAS as well?”

“No. MI-6. The only reason I know how he really died is because I had my own security clearance.”

“How long ago did you lose him?”

“Two years and two days.” She rubbed at her eyes. “His birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Shit, darling, I’m sorry. And here I’ve been trying to get into your pants while you’ve got all that going on inside. If you want to put the gloves on again I’ll let you beat the living hell out of me if it will make you feel better.”  

She managed a watered down smile. “No. I’m going to finish my workout and then I’ll come eat whatever it is you brought home for dinner tonight.”

“Greek. Souvlaki, gyros, more baklava than two people should eat.”

Her eyes filled with tears and he stepped up to her again, touching her cheek. “Is that not good? Do you hate Greek food?”

“Gideon and I went to Greece on our honeymoon. To Santorini.”

Lucas grimaced. “Do you want me to go get something else? It’s no trouble.”

She shook her head. “No. I like Greek food. That’s why he took me there, so I could get fat. He always teased me about being too skinny.”

“I think you look very nice.”

“Oh, so did he.” She smiled past the pain in her eyes. “He was the one man on the earth who made me actually feel beautiful.”

“Well, food’s here when you’re ready for it.”

She sniffed and then shook herself, trying to put her memories away. “You know what? I’ve done enough crunches. I think I hear a piece of baklava calling my name.”

Lucas smirked and she blushed at her unfortunate choice of words.

His smile held none of the sexual overtones it had been oozing earlier. “Go eat your baklava.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The next night when Lucas entered the hotel suite, he didn’t call out to her. After their détente the night before, she was making an effort not to hide from him and continue their precarious friendship so when he entered the living room, she was sitting on the sofa. His eyes opened a bit wider when he saw her out of her room and he smiled, though he scraped his teeth over his bottom lip.

“I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, but I bought a cake. I thought you might want to remember Gideon’s birthday.”

Her heart spasmed as her chest constricted, making it impossible to breathe. He was waiting for a response, a white cake box in his hands and his brow wrinkled as he looked at her.

She carefully put her Kindle down on the sofa, afraid of moving too fast and disturbing her tenuous hold on her emotions. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

He put the box down on the counter in the little kitchen. “I got chocolate. I didn’t know what flavor he liked best.”

“Chocolate was his favorite.”

He cut slices of the cake and then handed her one on a plate with a fork. He sat down on the other end of the sofa with his own piece.

“Happy birthday, darling,” Cami whispered and then cut into the wedge of chocolate with the side of her fork.

They ate together in silence until they were almost done. “Do you want to talk about him?”

She looked up from her plate. “I doubt you want to listen to me talk about another man.”

He smiled and held his hands open. “You need a friend. I’m a friend.”

A smile teased at her mouth as she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not my ‘very special alpha’ anymore?”

A bit of color came to cheeks made more prominent by his small smile. “Honestly, I’m not sure what we are. More than a therapist and client after the last week or so, definitely.” His forehead wrinkled as he spoke. “You piss me off sometimes and then I try and piss you off. You think you can take me on in a fight and I worry about you doing that if Nightingale got in here and I want to protect you, but I try and show you that you’re not the ninja you think you are and I almost end up kissing you instead. You tell me I’m acting like a beta and I don’t want to be a beta so I tried to show you I can be an alpha, but I think it came off more as arsehole than alpha. I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry.”

Cami had been smooshing the crumbs on her plate with a damp fingertip while he talked and now licked them off. “Well, you do a very convincing impression of a dominant male.” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks but she felt she owed him that. He needed to know he was making progress. “It’s just with all of this going on” she waved around the room, “it’s not really good timing. Besides the whole therapist thing. I meant what I said, too. You’re still in love with Sarah, and I haven’t been with anyone since Gideon and I’m not willing to dip my toes back in that pool for a simple fuck, as splendid as I’m sure it would be.”

Lucas chuckled. “Well, thank you for that. But I think I can be a friend, and I understand a little bit about what it’s like to lose a spouse. To lose a life that you’ve planned with someone else.”

Sadness blossomed in his eyes and Cami felt like she was looking at her reflection. “He’s the reason I ended up in the SAS. He always wanted to be a spy. I had grown up in a family that had a strong tradition of service, but I had never thought I would do it myself.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I was going to be a professor of linguistics.”

Both of his eyebrows rose. “Linguistics? How many languages do you speak?”

“I’ve lost count.”

His eyebrows rose higher. “You’ve lost count?”

“English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Arabic, Aramaic, Syriac, Hebrew, Turkish, Farsi, Dari, Pashto, Uzbek, Turkmen, Kurdish, Derija, a couple other dialects.”

“Вы говоритие по-русски??”

“Это не мой любимый язык, но я на нём рпочитала Анну Каренину,”

Lucas nodded, an impressed look on his face. “Well, no wonder the SAS wanted to get their hands on you.”

“They taught me most of those languages. I was going to be European but the SAS had a need for Middle Eastern languages and I tested well. Luckily most of them share the same language base. It’s like if you know Spanish then Italian and Portuguese are super easy to pick up.”

“Was Gideon a linguistics specialist too?”

Cami laughed. “Oh, no. He was a field op. God, he hated being in an office.” She smiled over old memories. “I’m the only thing that he loved about being in London. I was lucky that he could tell me a little bit about when he would be leaving and when I could expect him back. Waiting and wondering was still difficult, though.”

“How did you two meet?”

“A football match. We were on opposite teams, and he made a snarky comment right before kickoff about how desperate our side must be to let a girl on the squad.”

Lucas cringed. “Did you break his leg?”

Cami laughed. “No. I just took the ball off of him repeatedly through the match. He asked me out for a beer afterwards and the rest is history.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen. It was the weekend before classes started my first year at uni. I attended the same one as my brother and he vouched for me to get me on his squad since not everyone was back yet.” Her smile faded and she sucked on her bottom lip. “He was my life for a decade.”

She could see the understanding in his eyes. “Elizabeta is one of the things that kept me going when I was in Lushanka. I thought she would wait. I guess you can say she was my life for a decade, and the reason I’m still alive in a lot of ways.

“Do you ever go check up on her? See how she’s doing?”

“No. She’s made a new life for herself and she deserves to have that. To have a life that makes her happy.”

She leaned forward so she could pat him on the knee. “So do you, you know.”

He looked at her hand, the fingers delicate against the dark denim. “Do you really think so? Can you see me married again and with a kid and a house and a dog?”

“Mmmmm, maybe not the dog.” She laughed as he smiled and she sat back, letting go of his leg. “But the other stuff, yeah.”

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Sarah. It was supposed to be just a fling.”

“What happened?”

“I think we were both looking for something stable. Now, looking back, that’s what I think.” She sat quietly as he continued to talk in fits and starts. He’d obviously been thinking about this. “My whole life was in chaos and she was living under the specter of always being discovered. I think we both wanted someone to not push and probe and pull at our secrets. We both just wanted someone to accept us and all the limitations we brought with us. We could both point to our jobs to cover a multitude of faults and omissions. We were half people, and together we could manage. The problem was when the jobs and… what did you call them, prior commitments? surfaced. She made me feel like a real person again, but there’s so much of who she is that I didn’t know that disgusts me. And yet…,” he shook his head.

“You’ve been defending her for a long time. You won’t be able to stop that overnight.”

He looked over at her. “Are you still in love with Gideon?”

She gave him a gentle smile. “Are you still in love with Elizabeta?”

“I’ll always love her. But in love? No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“I wasted half a pot of coffee every morning for the first six months after he died because I couldn’t make myself stop thinking he was going to come downstairs and kiss me on the curve of my shoulder like he did every morning he was home.” A tear dropped onto her cheek. “And I still watch Top Gear because he never missed an episode. He’ll always be part of my life. He was my husband, but sooner or later you realize you’re not crying yourself to sleep every night and you eventually box up his clothes and then you find yourself sleeping in the middle of the bed.” The tears fell faster, the slow trickle turning into a steady stream. “Part of my heart will always be his. But there’s the rest of my heart and I’ve come to realize that it’s lonely.”

Lucas grabbed a handful of napkins from the table and handed them to her and she wiped her cheeks as a tear dripped from her jaw onto her shirt.  

“So I love him. But I hope someday I’ll find someone to fall in love with. He left me a letter with his will, one of those ‘if you’re reading this it means I’m dead’ letters, and he told me that when I was ready, he wanted me to find someone new, and that it didn’t mean I was betraying him, but that he wanted me to be happy and I wouldn’t be happy growing old by myself.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was. I don’t know how I’ll ever find someone else to live up to him.” The tears continued to flow, and she wiped fruitlessly at them.

“Come here.” He held out his hands.

“What?”

“Come here. You need a hug from a friend.”

She looked at him skeptically but scooted towards him. He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap and tucked her head against his shoulder. She tensed at the unexpected familiarity but when he didn’t do anything she relaxed against him. After a few minutes, she said, “Thank you for the cake. Most people are scared to mention him because they don’t want to make me sad, but he was a huge part of my life for so long that it hurts to have him ignored.”

“I understand.”

The warmth of his body had seeped into her, releasing knots of tension she had been carrying since they had checked into the hotel. “And I don’t normally cry over him anymore. It’s just the last few days…”

“His birthday and the anniversary of his death are always going to be hard. You’re allowed to be sad.”

She smiled. “Now  _you_  sound like a therapist.”

“It’s okay to let yourself be hugged every once in a while, Cami. You don’t always have to carry everything yourself.”

She sniffed. “I miss having someone to share burdens with.” She remained curled against Lucas’s chest for a while longer and then reluctantly stood up. “We should probably eat something besides cake for dinner.”

“There’s salads and sandwiches in the bag.”

They flipped through channels on the telly until the settled on a marathon of  _Wooster & Jeeves _episodes. Cami giggled into her Greek salad as they watched and when she was done eating, she leaned her head against Lucas’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around her and they watched together until they were both yawning. As Lucas turned off the telly, bringing the jazzy music to an end, Cami stood and stretched. “Can I ask a favor? Like, from a friend?”

“Of course.”

“Can you,” she looked at the floor, her foot rubbing nervously at the carpet, “will you sleep in my room tonight? Not like a sex thing,” she added hurriedly, “but…”

“Sometimes it’s nice not to be alone.”

She looked up at him, and there was an understanding smile on his face. “Yeah.”

 “Of course. Let me go change.”

Cami was already in the bed by the time he came into her room and he turned off the light on the nightstand before she felt the mattress sink from his weight. He didn’t make any move to touch her, but his slow and steady breathing was reassuring in the darkness, helping to keep the loneliness at bay. The tears started to fall again, and even though she was as quiet as she could possibly be under the circumstances, he must have heard. Lucas rolled over and draped an arm around her waist, loosely spooning her. His other arm slipped under her pillow. “You’re not alone, Cami. Tonight, you’re not alone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian dialog translates to “You speak Russian?” “It’s not my favorite language but I read Anna Karenina in the original.”
> 
> At least according to Google Translate.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N Episode eight of series eight of Spooks happens during this chapter._

She had woken up the next morning with him already gone, and she knew before she touched his pillow and found it cool that he had already left for work. She had woken at dawn, not even the seven stories of height completely able to block the sound of London shrugging off the night and reaching for the day. She had started at finding someone in her bed before she remembered the night before. Lucas woke enough to whisper, “You’re not alone.” His arm had tightened for a moment around her waist as he kissed her shoulder and then fell back asleep. She had laid awake for a long time in the grey dawn listening to him breathe before sleep took her again.

They hadn’t shared a bed since then. For the following four nights they had eaten and talked and Cami got him to talk about his years in Lushanka. Hour after hour he spoke of what had happened to him, the horrors that he had never shared with anyone else, the loss of identity, the loss of manhood, the loss of humanity. He talked about his suicide attempt, the complete and utter loss of hope, of even wanting to hope. He talked about the sexual abuse, of the complete defilement he had suffered at the hands of Darshavin. Cami tried to remain detached, but just as at some undefined point in the past he had become her friend than her client, she couldn’t keep from hurting as his stream of words turned into a sea of pain that threatened to drown him and pull her under with its tides of anguish.

But he needed this, and so she sat and listened and helped him process what had been done to him for years.  She used EMDR until her arm hurt from drawing the designs in the air and her heart was numb from the sheer weight of his suffering. Little by little they worked through it, and though she knew it would take months or years of therapy and love for him to truly heal, he made progress. And every night they would hug each other for longer than the night before and go to their own rooms to sleep.

Last night, Lucas had come home late. It had been dark for hours and Cami had heated up leftovers and raided the mini-bar by the time he walked in the door. She turned off the news of the Indian submarine that Pakistan had captured as she saw the ghosts haunting him in the dark circles under his eyes.

“She’s back, isn’t she?”

He nodded and collapsed onto the sofa next to her.

“How are you?”

He shook his head. “She got away.”

“How are  _you_?”

He blinked several times, his head cocked slightly to the side. “I let her get away. I want to believe it’s because I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t kill her, but I’m not positive.”

“Do you want a beer?”

He finally looked at her. “I thought I wasn’t allowed beer.”

“You just ran into your ex-girlfriend for the first time. You get a beer.” She got off the sofa and went to the mini-fridge.

“That’s what this is? Just me running into an ex?”

She grabbed two dark bottles and shut the door. “Well, there’s more to it than that for geo-political explosiveness factors, but as a friend and as a therapist, it’s just you running into your ex. You’re a human first, Lucas.”

She cracked open the bottle and handed it to him and he took a long swallow.

“She was supposed to kill me.”

She snorted. “Exes can be like that.”

That gets her a huff of laughter before he takes another drink. “She wants me to flee the country with her.”

“Need me to help you pack?”

“I have to stop her.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Stop Nightingale, you mean.”

“She’s Nightingale.”

“No, she’s part of it. She’s using and being used. But there’s a person there too. You loved the person, and that’s going to take time to deal with. You can’t just think of it as you were in love with a traitor. You are…were? in love with a person who was also a traitor.”

He scraped his thumbnail against the label on the bottle, starting to peel away the dampening paper. “Why are you making the sudden distinction?”

“Because you see being in love with her as another failure on your part, but you were in love with a person. After all you went through that you can still form that kind of attachment is good.”

He flexed his fingers, letting feeling back into a hand that had turned white.“But I formed it with a traitor.”

“It’s a step in the right direction. I want you to focus on that. In a lot of ways that’s going to make it worse when you bring her down, but it’s important for you to remember that for all the damage Darshavin did, you are still capable of love.”

“Right now I just wish I was capable of shooting her.”

“I hear that’s a standard reaction with exes.”

He laughed then, real genuine laughter. They finished their beers in silence and then he hugged her and went to bed.

The next night when he came home, Cami ran to him as he came in the door. The news was still blaring in the background, endless loops of the footage of the explosion at the hotel, and though they hadn’t said any MI-5 agents had died, she knew from personal experience that security services deaths didn’t always get announced on the telly. The sound of his key card in the door was the first indication that he was alive, and as the door opened she flung herself off of the couch and into his arms. The smoke and chemicals from the fire hung around him and filled her nostrils as he weakly held her. He had never smelt better.

“I was so worried.”

“I’m alive.”

She pulled back and took his face in her hands. He was alive, but his eyes were dead. “Do you think you could tolerate a shower?”

He nodded, his expression blank.

“Alright, you go do that. If…if you need someone to help you…not like, but you know, if you don’t want to be,” she fumbled with the words.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t have the energy for a panic attack.”

“Alright.”

She called room service while he was in the shower, not caring that she was breaking the rules about no outside contact.  London was in chaos, he needed food, and there was no way either of them were going to brave the insanity to acquire sustenance. Dinner arrived right before he came out of his room, his hair damp around his ears in a pair of track pants and nothing else. He raised an eyebrow at her when he saw the tray from room service but that was his only comment before he grabbed the sandwich and beer and sank to the floor, his back up against the television console. He ate in silence and when the first beer was done she handed him a second.  

He finally started to speak when he was half way through his second beer, rolling the bottle back and forth between his hands. He told her about locating Sarah, trapping her, Ros shooting her in the leg so she wouldn’t be able to run. He told her about Sarah getting killed at the hospital, about his rage as he chased down the hitman, about almost killing him before Ros called him off. He told her about their frantic search through the hotel for President Madassa and the Home Secretary and then finally, him getting President Madassa out and in front of the news cameras to prevent a nuclear war while Ros stayed behind with the Home Secretary so he wouldn’t die alone in the explosion.

“She was the closest thing I had to a friend and now she’s dead,” he ended.

“Sarah?”

“No, Ros. Sarah and Ros both died today, and I’ll miss Ros more than I’ll miss Sarah.” Condensation dripped from his bottle onto his stomach and he wiped it off and then started tracing over the large William Blake tattoo on his chest.

“What do you think about when you see the tattoos?”

“Nothing much. They were the cost of survival.”

She didn’t respond but waited impassively until he started talking again.

“They’re a constant reminder of everything I lost. Every morning I see myself in the mirror and I see eight years of loss looking back at me. I don’t even see a person. I’m a storybook of scars.”

Cami swallowed against the lump in her throat and patted the front of the sofa. “Come sit over here.”

He shoved the coffee table out of the way and crawled across the floor, turning around and putting his back against the sofa. She rested her hands gently on his shoulders. “Tell me your story.”

She stroked his shoulders gently as he talked about getting tattooed, the eight spired cathedral domes on his back, one for each year in prison, the ship for freedom, dum spiro spero ‘while I breath I hope’ but placed somewhere he couldn’t see it on himself, the mysticism of William Blake, the five dots of a prisoner in walls, on and on. He read the Russian on his arm to her, telling of his refusal to give information to the authorities, to betray what he believed. It must have taken him an hour to describe not only the pain of getting the tattoos, but they pain they represented. She realized as he explained each tattoo to her that they truly were a storybook, but not of his failure and diminishment.

She climbed off the sofa and sat between his legs, tucking hers into a lotus position. “Do you want to know what I think about when I see your tattoos?”

“What?”

She took his hand and turned it over so she could touch the five dots on his inner wrist. “I don’t think of loss or failure or pain. I think of honor, and sacrifice, and loyalty, and determination.” She moved up his arm to the band around his forearm and the broken chains. “These are the medals of honor that the system can’t give you. You don’t have a uniform to pin them to so they’re etched in your skin.” She stopped to wipe away the tears that had started running down her cheeks and then ran her wet fingertips over the sailboat on his upper shoulder. “You were so strong for so long, Lucas. So incredibly strong.” She didn’t say anything as she touched the rest of his tattoos, alternating between wiping away her tears and drawing over each inked line, wishing she could somehow replace the pain with which they had been bestowed with the gratitude and honor he deserved for earning them.

Eventually she sat back. “Do you know what you need?”

“What?”

“A massage. You need someone to touch you without giving you pain. Go lay down on your bed.”

He followed her orders and stretched out face down on his bed. “I hope you don’t mind smelling like plumeria,” she murmured as she grabbed a bottle of lotion off of the counter.

“As long as I don’t smell like smoke and ashes, I don’t care.”

She didn’t speak again as she worked out the knots in his back and shoulders, his skin warming and taking on a red flush as she massaged him. She lost track of time as she sought out and eradicated every ball of tension she could find. He was almost asleep as she got up to leave.

“Will you stay? Just keep your hand on my back until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

She laid down next to him and put her hand on the center of his back. She must have fallen asleep before he did because when she woke up, he was gone. A few hours later, there was a knock at the door. Tariq, he called her on the secure mobile to verify it was him, was at her door telling her that she could go home. With Sarah dead, the threat to her life was considered over.

“Should I pack up Lucas’s things?”

“No, I’ll do that. I’ll just take his bags back with me.”

“Alright.” Cami quickly packed up her few things and bid farewell to her home for the last fifteen days. When she got home she checked for bugs but they had all been removed and she didn’t find any new ones. She verified her Sig was still securely stashed and then dumped her bags down the stairs to the laundry room. She waited for Lucas to call. She waited for weeks.


	16. Chapter 16

_About one month later_

Harry came out of his office and gestured to Ruth. “Can you get everyone in the briefing room? There’s something we all need to see.”

“Of course.

Harry found himself waiting for Ros to join them before he reminded himself that she wouldn’t be around the table anymore. Her funeral this time had been for real. Instead he was faced by Ruth, Lucas who was his new section D chief, Tariq, and two new faces, Beth and Dimitri. He was still feeling out the skills of the two new additions to his team, but he fervently hoped they were up to the task awaiting them.

“I received a message this morning on a memory stick dropped at the front desk by a homeless man who said he was given fifty pounds to deliver it. The man is currently having breakfast in one of our interrogation rooms.”

He pressed a button and a video started to play on the large screen at one end of the room. “Hello, Harry,” a pale man with a crop of ginger curls threaded with grey said into the camera. He was in what looked like an abandoned factory or warehouse, with ugly fluorescent light fixtures dangling from exposed metal beams. “I’ll cut right to the chase. You know me. You know my penchant for meticulous record keeping. Unfortunately you’re not the only one. I was part of Nightingale, Harry. I don’t know if that surprises you. I was always in favor of more order than less, and we were finally going to have order, but the past is the past. Except for Nightingale. They’re at it again, Harry, hatching a new plan. You couldn’t think they would give up that easily, not with as many people as they had involved. But I’m done. I’m old. I want out. So I’ll make a deal with you, Harry. I’ll give you all my records. Names, numbers, dates, photos, all those things that pesky geeks like me keep tucked away in databases no one else knows exist. But it’s not a gift, Harry. It’s a trade. I want out. I want a new life. I want to retire somewhere warm but I got hasty and tipped my hand and I can’t push those buttons myself anymore. Forty-eight hours. A new identity, passport, a million pounds, and I give you this memory stick.” He panned the camera around and it focused on a woman sitting in a cane chair, her hands tied behind her back, her ankles bound to the legs of the chair. She was gagged and the skin around one of her eyes was dark with bruising, the blood vessel in her eye had ruptured, turning the white to crimson. Dried blood was caked on the skin beneath her nose and her lip was split open, leaving red stains on the cloth cutting into the sides of her mouth “Don’t meet my demands, and she dies.”

Harry froze the video on the picture of the woman who was staring impassively ahead. “The man is Finn McCrae. MI-6. Completely capable of killing that woman if we don’t do what he asks.”

“Do we know who she is?” Tariq asked.

“That’s Camwyn Reynolds. SAS, working for the Home Office on a revamp of mental health protocols for all security services. She saved the life of the Chancellor’s son on an undercover mission several years back and has been spending the last year playing the political game to get funding shifted to preventative and ongoing health services for all the security services. If she dies, we not only lose the work she’s done, we lose one of the few people who can wring money out of the Exchequer. She’s also my goddaughter.”

Harry’s words were static to Lucas as he stared at the screen. The only thing he could hear was his own voice shouting in his head. “Damn it, Cami, I told you not to fight.”

“Find her. Bring her home safe. I’m not explaining to her parents how I let another one of their children die.” Lucas tore his eyes away from Cami’s battered face and nodded to Harry. He didn’t know how much Harry knew about his friendship with Cami, but that wasn’t the important issue right now. Letting his decisions be clouded by emotions would be the worst possible thing.

“Right. Tariq – take that video, look for clues on location. When he’s panning the camera around, you can see a window. Is there anything visible that we can use to narrow her location?  Beth and Ruth – financials, phones, personals, anything we can find on McCrae. Dimitri, we’re going to go to her house and see if that’s where she was taken. We’re on a timer, so work fast and keep me informed on any developments.”

The door to her home wasn’t locked and Lucas bit down on his anger, knowing she had been attacked in her own home. He was first in while Dimitri covered him and it was obvious this was where she had been taken. The vase that normally sat on her entry table had been knocked over and lay shattered on the floor, the pieces scattered more than could be accounted for by a simple fall. Pictures were knocked off of the wall and broken frames and shards of mirror crunched under foot as they continued in. Lucas looked in the living room and saw her safe standing open and her big chair knocked over. They quickly cleared the rest of the house and saw no other signs of disturbance. Her bed was made. There were no dishes in the sink, the coffee pot was empty and there was no water in the kettle. A half finished crossword puzzle sat folded on the table. He opened the familiar tin of biscuits and found it empty.

Lucas stepped out into front garden to call for a forensics squad. His nerves jangled with anger as he took a deep breath, trying not to think of the drops of blood he had seen spattered across the wall or on the broken pieces of mirror. He was about to ring the grid when he noticed an elderly woman in her front garden watching him intently from across the street. He crossed the street to her and before he could identify himself, she said, “Something happened there this morning, didn’t it? My Gerry always laughs at me for taking such care at watching at the window, but I knew something was wrong and I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were. What did you see?”

She put her hands deep in the pockets of her house coat as she looked up at him. “It was six oh three, and these two men come out of Miss Reynolds house carrying a big rug all rolled up. Now, I’ve seen cleaners before, and they always cover the rug completely before they take it out of the house, but these two had just rolled it, and they weren’t careful at all as they loaded it in the back of a black van. Not at all a proper vehicle for carrying rugs.” She shook her head in disgust. “They should have had a lorry or something larger. And no logo on the van like a proper company would have, either. Very suspicious.”

 _God save the queen and little old lady neighbors._ “Do you remember anything else about either the men or the vehicle?”

“I couldn’t see much about the men. That was also odd. They weren’t in uniforms, just denim trousers and dark shirts and jackets. One of them was ginger, but the other one had on a cap. But I did write down the plate number from the van, just in case it would be needed. Let me go get it.”

She went into the house and returned with a stenographer’s notebook that she handed to him. “Right there,” she pointed at a notation halfway down the page with an arthritic finger.  Lucas jotted down the number and quickly scanned through the rest of the page to see if there was anything else of interest. She had thoroughly documented everything that happened in view of her window. She was more thorough than God and Santa Claus combined.

“Would you mind if I take this? There may be some other clues in here.”

Her smile was the gloat of a vindicated woman. “Just bring it back when you’re done, in case someone else needs to look at it.”

“I will.”

He rang Tariq. “6:03 this morning two men were spotted leaving Cami’s house carrying a large rolled rug and loaded it into the back of a black unmarked van with the plate LA13 BAO.”

“I’ll pull CCTV footage and we’ll track it.”

“It looks like a smash and grab at this end. Send a forensics team out but I don’t think we’re going to get much here.”

“I will. We’re in luck with the video. When he swings the camera around past the window, you get a glimpse of the skyline. I can see the Gherkin and a few other buildings for just a second, but we’re triangulating to estimate where the video could have been taken from to give us that kind of a view. She’s on the south bank but we should be able to narrow it down considerably. We’ll work both ends and we’ll find her, Lucas.”

Lucas nodded, and lines formed between his brows as he considered his next move. “I’m coming in. Tell everyone I want updates when I get back. I’ll leave Dimitri here to keep the site secure until forensics gets here.”

“Will do.”

He was met by Tariq as soon as he cleared through the glass doors onto the grid. “We followed the van to where it entered an underground car park under an old factory building. It’s within the parameters specified by the triangulation. She would have to be on the third floor or higher of that building though.”

“Right, call Dimitri and have him meet me there. I want Echo team to secure the building. Dimitri and I will go in. I don’t want anything to warn this man that we’re on to him. Who knows what he would do to his hostage.”

Tariq stopped. “Are you sure you should be the one going in, Lucas?”

Lucas turned to him, his head tilted. “Why?”

“The personal connection. You’ve not had…” Tariq trailed off under Lucas’s cold glare. “Right.”

An hour and a half later, Lucas and Dimitri were climbing the stairs in the four storey building. Echo team had moved in and secured the two bottom floors and blocked all access to the structure. The third floor of the abandoned warehouse hadn’t turned up anything useful, and Dimitri carefully opened the door to the fourth floor. With guns raised, they both entered, clearing corners as they worked their way through the maze of shelving units cluttered with discarded goods and fogged over with dust. The floor was a mess of footprints moving in both directions, the only sign of activity they had seen in the building so far.

Lucas came around a final corner and stopped as the space opened out in front of him. The chair Cami had been sitting on stood in the middle of the empty room. He carefully stepped out of the shadows of the shelves and scanning carefully for traps, advanced on the chair. Plastic zip ties marred with red lay cut on the floor.

A mobile phone rested on the center of the seat with a dialed number showing on its face. He pressed the send button and waited as the ringing blared out through the speaker phone.

The person who answered it laughed. “You didn’t really think I would make it that easy on you, did you? Deliberately including the skyline in the video? You’re faster than I thought you would be, though. I will give you credit for that.”

Lucas shoved his gun back in the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you playing games with us, Finn?”

“Because I wanted to see if you were going to negotiate in good faith. Since it is now apparent that you aren’t, I think it’s time to tighten the screws a little. How about twelve hours now. Twelve hours and I kill her.”

Lucas kept his voice perfectly calm even though he was screaming inside. Some lessons learned in Lushanka never went away. “How do we know you haven’t already?”

“Here, talk to her yourself.”  Lucas waited as he heard Finn talking to someone else. “Now, no funny business. I will break bones if you try and give him information.”

He heard the phone move and a sound of pain. “Cami?”

“Jeremy.” Her voice creaked and cracked like old leather. “It’s been a while.”

He stared at the bloodied bonds on the floor, the reek of urine acrid in the air. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

“You’re bringing dinner next time. I want fish and chips and beer.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Anything you want.” He sighed. “I warned you not to fight, Cami-girl,” he said, his voice rough and quiet.

“I should have listened. He hits like a sledgehammer.”

There was a rustle and then Finn spoke again. “I’ll call Harry with details about the drop. Twelve hours.” The call ended and Lucas pocketed the phone.

“I’ll take this back to Tariq.” He gripped his temples with his hand and rubbed hard. “Hopefully he can work some of his voodoo and track the call or something, because who knows where they are now.”

“Use the CCTV to look for vehicles leaving after the black van got here. It’s a work day. There probably isn’t a lot of outgoing traffic.”

Lucas closed his eyes, swearing at himself for not thinking of that himself. His brain kept playing the sound of her breaking voice over the image of her battered face, leaving no room for anything else. “Good idea. Let’s have Echo team come up and secure this and we’ll go back to the grid and start scanning video.” Cami’s life could depend on them finding something on those black and white frames.


	17. Chapter 17

Section D sat around the briefing table updating Lucas on what they’d found. In short, nothing.

Lucas’s mouth tightened. “Right, then keep trawling through his records. Beth, look to see if he had any connection to the building he filmed the video in. It may give us an idea of how he is finding places to use. Tariq, the footage of vehicles coming out of the building, that’s the best lead we have now.”

“I’ve found twenty-six vehicles that meet the criteria we’re looking for and I still have two more hours of footage to go through,” Tariq answered.

“Dimitri and I will help. Any other questions?” He looked around the table.

“Why did she call you Jeremy?” Dimitri asked.

His head tilted. “What?”

“Camwyn. When you talked to her to verify that she was alive, she called you Jeremy.”

He had been so relieved to hear her voice that he hadn’t noticed her call him something other than Lucas.  He blinked several times as he wondered what else he hadn’t paid attention to. “That’s the name I originally gave her when we first met.”

“You know her?” Beth asked.

Lucas rubbed his hand over his mouth as he decided how much to tell his team. “We worked together on a previous mission. We had to put her in a safe house during the Nightingale problems and I was part of her security team. Also, she’s been treating me for some issues arising from my time in Russia.”

Beth’s eyes widened briefly in surprise but she schooled her face back to impassivity. “Does she know your real name?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did she call you Jeremy? Was she trying to give you information?”

Lucas ran his hand through his hair, stopping to scratch his scalp. “She hasn’t called me Jeremy in a while. It would have to have been from fairly soon after we met.”

“Did she anything else specific? Something that might be a clue as to her location?” Ruth asked.

Lucas thought back to the brief moments he had talked to her. “She told me I was responsible for bringing dinner next time. She always nags me about not eating enough.”

Dimitri nodded. “But it wasn’t just any dinner; she said she wanted fish and chips and beer. Does that mean anything special?”

“We had fish and chips that one time out at Tilbury.” His eyes closed as the pieces fell together. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I demolished a building out there with a sledgehammer. He’s got her out in the estuary somewhere.”

Tariq nodded. “Right then. I can cross reference vehicles leaving the car park with the computers processing Congestion Charge Zone information and see where all those vehicles are heading. We can rule out the ones who don’t leave the zone and focus on the ones who take the A13 east.”

“Do that.”

“The M25 across the Thames has a toll charge,” Beth added. “And we can check Blackwell Tunnel video logs as well.”

“Right. And the Woolwich Ferry,” Ruth suggested.

“Then let’s get started and hope that he crosses the Thames at some point convenient to our surveillance. Don’t stop working the financials and other records, though. This guy is MI-6. We have to assume he knows how to avoid being found if he wants to disappear.”

The rest of the team went back to work as Lucas rested his head in his hands. He was exhausted, the bone-deep tiredness of too much emotional labor and not enough time to recuperate. He knew Cami would be mad at him. He wasn’t eating as much as he should, surviving on coffee and bad take-away eaten behind the wheel. He wasn’t getting enough sleep, and when he did sleep, his dreams turned more and more often to her. He still practiced the guided visualizations to get rid of the nightmares of Sarah, and had even developed his own to deal with Darshavin. But when the dreams were of Cami’s face, he didn’t want to get rid of them, even though they disturbed his sleep with increasing frequency. He shoved himself upright and went to get a map of the estuary. He knew it was old-fashioned but he still felt more comfortable with a map on a table rather than with one on a monitor.

About an hour later, Ruth found him at his desk. “I think I may have found something you should look at.”

“What is it?”

“I was checking the vehicles that left the car park against registration records, seeing if anything would pop. I was using the plate number to look the vehicles up and I found this.” She handed him the registration record for a red Peugeot.

“And?”

“Well, that particular plate was attached to a black Mitsubishi when it left the car park.”

He blinked several times. “Someone switched plates?”

“Yes. That’s what it looks like.”

“Good work. Thank you, Ruth.”

He took the paper over to Tariq. “Where is the car this plate was attached to? It was a black Mitsubishi.”

Tariq took the paper from Lucas and looked at the number and then at his notes. “It’s still in the Congestion Zone. It hasn’t moved since 12:15 so for over an hour now. Why?”

“Its plates don’t match its registration.”

Beth looked at the printout. “If he’s switching plates we might have to go back and visually look at the cars for a match. If he changed the plates once, he could do it again, which is why it is showing up as not having moved.”

“Yes. Keep an eye out for all of those plate numbers on the video footage but also look for black Mitsubishis in particular.”

Lucas sat back down at his desk and punched up the CCTV footage of the last place the plate had registered in the system. Queuing up the black Mitsubishi, he started to follow the vehicle and watched it pull into another car park. He fast forwarded through the video until the vehicle left again with a completely different license plate. He still couldn’t get a clear view of the driver who was wearing a brimmed hat and a jacket with the collar pulled up.

“I found it.” He called out the new plate information. Looking at the time stamp on the video, he added, “We know where he was thirty-five minutes ago.”  He grabbed his gun as he stood. “Dimitri and I are going after him. Tariq, keep tracking him and give us minute by minute updates.”

Travelling through downtown London wasn’t fun at the best of times, but it was worse when every light and each jaywalker seemed to be conspiring against him. Every time he stopped in traffic, he stared at the boot of the vehicle in front of him, imagining Cami trapped in the small space. Tariq gave them directional updates every minute or so as he rapidly scanned through the footage and finally he said, “He’s pulled into another car park. Two blocks ahead on your right.”

Lucas took the turn into the multistorey car park and started circling up the ramps, looking for the black Mitsubishi. As they came around a large concrete column, they saw a man kneeling in front of a vehicle, changing the license plate. Lucas pulled the car to a halt, the tires screeching, and blocked the Mitsubishi into its stall. Dimitri was out of the car before it had come to a full halt. The man jumped up at the sound of the tires screaming for traction and sprinted away from them, throwing the screwdriver at Dimitri who ducked out of its way and continued pursuing him.

Lucas grabbed a crowbar from the boot and quickly popped open the boot to the Mitsubishi and was stunned to find it empty. He slammed his hands on the lid.  _Where the hell is she?_

He chased down Dimitri who tackled the fleeing suspect and brought him to the ground right as Lucas caught up. Dimitri rolled him over to his back and yanked off the hat. It was a young non-descript man with brown hair.

“Where is she?” Lucas yelled, pointing his gun at the man’s forehead.

“Who?” he cried, his hands shaking as he held them up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Cami! Where is she?” His voice echoed back from the walls.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he repeated, his voice quavering.

Dimitri cuffed him across the face. “You’re just randomly changing license plates?”

“This man, he gave me ten thousand pounds to drive that car around all day and change the plates every thirty minutes or so.” His eyes flashed back and forth from Lucas to Dimitri, huge in his face that was going increasingly pale as Lucas’s gun didn’t move from targeting his head.

“And this didn’t seem suspicious to you at all?”

The man shrugged. “I’ve got a kid and times are hard. Ten thousand for a day’s work can make suspicions go on holiday, ya ken?”

Lucas yelled in frustration, pounding his fist against the concrete column. “Give me a reason to believe you.”

“I got a mobile in my pocket. The man gave it to me, said to ring him if I got in trouble.”

Dimitri fished the mobile out of the man’s coat pocket and handed it to Lucas and then rolled the man over onto his stomach and secured his hands behind him with a zip tie. Lucas winced as the plastic cut into the man’s wrists but didn’t say anything. Instead, he pushed the send button on the phone.

“Greetings again,” the now familiar voice said. “Found one of my little decoys did you?”

“Let me talk to Cami.”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that. Instead, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to cut your time in half again. Every time you come after me instead of doing what I have asked, I’m going to cut your time in half. And when you run out of time, I’m going to kill her.”

“We’ll find you, regardless of what you do.”

“No, I don’t think you will. And even if you were to be find me somehow, the data would have been destroyed by then and our lovely Cami will be dead.”

Lucas refused to consider that possibility. “I need proof she’s still alive.”

“Proof? You want proof?” The voice was perfectly calm. “I’m the one playing by the rules here and you question me. Very well.”

“Jeremy?” Lucas closed his eyes at her raspy voice.

“I’m here. Trying to find you is like throwing rocks.”

“Keep throwing,” she whispered. It wasn’t from a wish to be quiet, though. Lucas could tell it hurt to talk. “Don’t give him–,” her words were cut off by the sound of a gun blast and then a scream of pain. Dimitri’s head snapped up at the report of the gun.

“Cami!” Lucas bellowed.

“She’ll be fine. It’s just a flesh wound. I even think I missed the bone. That is, she’ll be fine if she gets medical attention on time and doesn’t bleed out. You have four and a half hours before I aim for something much more important. Tell Harry I’ll be contacting him in an hour to arrange details of the drop.”

The call ended and Lucas hurled the phone against the wall, wishing it was Finn’s face as it shattered into pieces.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Lucas couldn’t sit still. Even at the conference table, his knees were bobbing up and down. The clock on the wall ticked down with what was starting to feel like personally directed malevolence.

“What do we know for certain?” he asked.

Dimitri lifted his head from his hands. “Finn was there with Camwyn when the video was filmed. We also know he was with her during the phone calls.”

“So we can assume that he is staying with her,” Beth said, “which means if we find one of them, we find the other.”

 “He has used a decoy,” Dimitri responded. “On the phone he said ‘one of my decoys’ which means he either has others or wants us to think he does.”

Ruth scanned the notes she had in front of her. “We seemed fairly certain that she was in the estuary somewhere. Should we then think any other clues leading us away from that destination are decoys as well?”

“It comes down to how much we trust that Lucas interpreted Camwyn’s message correctly,” Tariq answered.

“I did. The throwing stones to find her comment that I made when I talked to her, that was my way of checking and she confirmed it before he shot her. I should have known it was a red herring.”

Beth sat back in her chair. “So we should focus on looking for vehicles that left the original parking garage sometime between the time the van got there and eight am.”

Ruth shook her head. “We can narrow it further than that. Check traffic reports. How long would it have taken to get from that location to Thames House this morning? And he would have had to find someone to deliver the message.”

“Ten minutes in traffic, twenty minutes if the person took the bus,” Tariq answered.

“But the homeless man didn’t recognize a picture of Finn McCrae,” Beth added. “He said the man who gave him the memory stick was between twenty and thirty years of age with brown hair and brown eyes.”

Lucas stroked his cheeks as he put together all the disparate pieces of information from his team. “Let’s assume that McCrae wouldn’t have the message delivered while he was still in the building with Camwyn. We’re working with about an hour between when the van got there and when he would have left. I want every vehicle that left visually tracked using CCTV to its current destination. He knows what will flag our attention and he’s using that to keep us chasing down decoys.”

They all went back to their desks and Tariq gave them all a list of plate numbers and vehicle descriptions and they started tracking them through rush hour London traffic. About forty-five minutes later, Beth said, “I think you should see this.”

Lucas leaned over her desk to see her monitor. “This black Mercedes took the M25 tunnel with a broken taillight. When it left London it didn’t have a broken taillight.”

His eyes narrowed as he regarded the shattered taillight. “You think she kicked it out?”

Beth shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Where does it go?”

“I’m checking cameras at every off-ramp.” Her eyes flashed to her other monitor. “Oh, there it is.” She tapped the screen. “He took the roundabout onto A13 east.”

A surge of hope flooded through him. “Good work. The second he exits, I want to know.”

Lucas went back to the conference room and spread out the map. The A13 went right past Tilbury. He had driven it himself when he had gone out to meet Darshavin, and again that night he had gone to rescue Sarah and then met with Camwyn. If he had just stuck with the information she had given him they might have rescued her by now.

He was scanning the map, looking for likely places for McCrae to be holed up where gun blasts wouldn’t be noticed when Harry came in. “How are matters proceeding?”

Lucas brought him up to date on what they were doing and pointed out on the map the last location they had tracked the vehicle they suspected McCrae was driving.

“I received an email from him approximately five minutes ago. Tariq is backtracking it but I would be surprised if we can find anything useful from it. He wants the money wired to an account in the Cayman Islands and the passport and identity documents delivered to him at St. Clements Church in West Thurrock. He will give us part of the information and Camwyn in exchange for the documents and then the rest of the information, the more important part of it, once he is out of the country.”

Lucas nodded. This was what he had expected. “And I suppose he wants just you there to make the exchange?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.” He went back to looking at the map.

“You know we can’t actua–,”  

Lucas nodded. “I know.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for us to make an exception. The information he is offering is quite valuable.”

“If he hadn’t taken Camwyn hostage, perhaps the case could be made. If he had just come to you with an offer of a trade–,” lines formed on his forehead. “He had to know that after the Home Secretary was killed, there was no way MI-5 would be negotiating with anyone involved.”

A look of approval crossed Harry’s face. “You’re thinking like a section chief.”

“I still want to shoot him in the face.”

“No more than I do. Her brother died on a mission I was overseeing. Bringing news of the death of an operative is always painful. When you played cricket with the agent’s father in university and attended his parents’ wedding, it is even worse.”

Beth knocked on the door. “He took the A104 off-ramp. It goes through a few different towns and we don’t have security cameras on those exits.”

Lucas and Harry turned to the map. “Stanford-Le-Hope, Corringham, he could be anywhere in there. And he’s past West Thurrock by a few kilometers,” Lucas said, feeling the knots in his back tighten. They were so much closer and yet there was still so much territory to cover.

Harry traced the A104. “No, he’s here.” He tapped his finger at the map. “The London Gateway Port.”

“Are you positive?”

Harry nodded. “He would always talk about he should have joined the Merchant Marines, spent his life hauling cargo on the high seas where a man could be free. He loved shipyards. He’ll be there, and be planning on leaving on one of those ships they have in dock right now.”

“Should I call the port and have them shut down the docks?” Beth asked.

“No. We don’t want anything to alert him that we’ve found him and spook him into doing something drastic.” Harry turned to Lucas. “Take your team. You’re going to have to find him.”

Lucas went back onto the grid. “Tariq, can you hook into their security system? They must have extensive surveillance with the international shipping they do out of there. See if you can locate where he is. Beth and Dimitri are coming with me, and I need a thermal imaging scope. If he’s got in her a shipping container, I’d like to be able to find which one it is quickly.”

They were almost to the A104 turnoff when Tariq called. “I have good news and bad news.”

“Good news first.”

“McCrae is definitely at the port. Gate video has a clear view of him passing onto the grounds.”

Lucas nodded. His fears that they were on another wild goose chase were fortunately ungrounded. “Bad news?”

“He’s hacking the security system as well. The video of him on the grounds was being deleted as I was pulling it off of the servers. I’m fairly certain he has her stashed somewhere in the two rows of shipping containers that are farthest to the west. I’m sending a location to your phone. But I can’t narrow it down any closer than that.”

“Good work. Keep monitoring the footage. If you find anything else, let us know.”

“I will. And I’ll have medical personnel from Corringham ready to call the minute you have her secure.”

“Thank you.”

“She’s really nice. We talked a few times while she was under protection.”

“I’ll bring her back, Tariq.” He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Tariq or himself. “If he’s hacked into the surveillance system, can you mask us coming through the gates so he doesn’t know we’re there?”

“Of course. I’ll create a loop and splice it in to cover you.”

When they started seeing the restricted road signs, Lucas checked with Tariq to make sure he was ready to cover their movements. “Ready when you are. I’ve got your GPS signal mapped over their camera grid so I can mask you while you look for her.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

They passed through the gates without problems and Tariq gave them directions to the rows of shipping containers that was the last place he had been able to find McCrae. Lucas parked the car in the car park at the end of the rows to not draw attention to it, and the three operatives put it in their headsets and checked that comms were working before they exited the vehicle and started making their way down between the rows of huge metal boxes, guns drawn and at the ready. Lucas held a thermal imaging device in one hand, scanning the cargo containers for any sign of a human occupant. It was a slow progress as they tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, not knowing what kind of surveillance McCrae had set in place.

They were half way down the long row when the thermal imaging gun showed the signature of something alive in one of the containers. As they edged closer to the giant red box, its paint faded from years of sun and salt, the signature didn’t move and resolved into the silhouette of a seated person.

“There’s only one person in there.” Beth pointed out. “Do you think that’s McCrae or Reynolds?”

“Sitting like that, that’s her,” Dimitri said. “The angle of the head like that, she’s exhausted but she’s still sitting upright because she’s tied to the chair.”

“Where’s McCrae?”

“Hiding the car maybe? He’ll need it close by to get to the trade of information, but leaving it parked out in front of the container would be too conspicuous.”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m going in.”

Beth and Dimitri covered him as he worked out the latch on the shipping container. It moved easily and without making a sound, which was proof enough to him that McCrae had been there. As the door swung open, he saw Cami sitting on a chair in the middle of a container with head slumped onto her chest. Blood ran down her right arm and the side of her chest from the bullet wound in her shoulder, creating a small puddle under her. Lucas quickly scanned for any sort of trap but he couldn’t see anything. He quickly shoved his gun in his belt as he went to her. Gun powder burns scorched the fabric around the bullet hole and he checked to make sure there was an exit wound. There was, and blood dripped down her back and made the chair sticky. She stirred as he untied the gag and dropped the bloodied cloth.

Her eyes opened and she lifted her head a little. “Lucas.”

He cupped her cheek for a moment. “I’m here.”

He opened his knife and cut the plastic ties cutting into her ankles and wrists. Her hands and feet were discolored from the loss of circulation and the deep indentations in her limbs remained after he removed the bonds.

“We’re going to get you out of here now.”

She groaned as she tried to move and then fell back again. “I can’t feel my feet.”

“I’ll carry you.”

She lifted her battered face to see him better, whimpering with the effort. “You left me alone.”

His lungs were paralyzed like she had kicked him in the solar plexus. “I’m so sorry.”

He picked her up, tucking the left side of her body against him so he wouldn’t put any more pressure on her wound that was still seeping. Cami put her good arm around his shoulders trying to hold herself steady, hating to be carried even in her condition. Lucas carried her from the container and she squeezed her eyes shut against the bright sunshine. Beth shoved the door shut and relatched it. Dimitri took one look at Cami’s bruised and bloody figure and said, “I’ll go get the car.” A minute later, Dimitri pulled the car down the aisle between the towering rows of containers. Beth opened the door to the backseat so that Lucas could carefully lower her to the seat. As he bent over, he felt a hand grab his gun from the waistband of his jeans and turned to the echoing blast of it discharging. He looked over his shoulder to see Cami dropping his gun from her limp hand and kept turning to see McCrae on the ground part way down the row. Beth was already running to him and Lucas watched as she kicked the gun away from his outstretched hand as she aimed her own at him.

“Move at all and I will shoot you in the head and not just in the shoulder.”

He looked down at the woman in his arms, his ears ringing. “You shot him where he shot you? That’s a bit of poetic justice for you.”

She shook her head an infinitesimally small distance before she gave up and let it fall back on Lucas’s shoulder. “My aim’s off.  I still can’t feel my hands.”

“What were you aiming for?”

“His head.”


	19. Chapter 19

Lucas was really tired of this hospital. A month ago he had been in a room almost identical to this one interrogating Sarah, and now here he was waiting for Cami to come back from surgery. Finn’s bullet had chipped her clavicle and shoulder blade and the surgeons wanted the bone chips out as soon as possible to keep one from puncturing a lung or an artery. And so he sat and waited. Waited like he had in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics ferried her to London, her hand in his. She had slept, he preferred to think that it was sleep rather than unconscious from pain, for almost the entire ride, and even if she had been awake, he wanted to be able to apologize to her in private, not under the supervision of a paramedic. And so he waited.

He got up and started pacing the room, watching the minutes tick away on the clock. The longer it took, the more likely her family would arrive before she was out of surgery, and he didn’t want to have to apologize in front of them either. Harry was going to tell her parents what had happened after an initial round of questioning McCrae. There was some question as to whether or not he had involved anyone else and until that was answered, the ongoing safety of Cami was still a matter for MI-5 and so Lucas had volunteered to stand watch.

A nurse knocked on the door and told him that she was out of surgery and in the recovery room, and that she would be brought back to her room in about half an hour if everything went correctly.

He watched the clock and twenty-five minutes later she was rolled into the room. She was considerably cleaner than the last time he had seen her. They had cleaned all the blood from her face and other wounds, and the shoulder on her hospital gown was open, revealing carefully bandaged skin. She had a massive black eye and a split lip, but she no longer looked like she was about to die. Neither one of them said anything as the nurse situated her and got her another dose of pain medication. Then the nurse left and they watched each other a while longer.

Cami finally closed her eyes and let her head sink back against the pillow. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you would have disappeared again.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I left that morning, because I was afraid of hurting you.”

She started to interrupt, but he shook his head, “Let me finish.”

He took a deep breath, obviously searching for what to say first. “Do you remember the night before I left? Do you remember what we did?”

Cami nodded. “You came back to the hotel reeking of smoke, and the pain and anger was radiating off of you in waves almost as strong as the smoke.”

He nodded. “And then what happened?”

“You took a shower and we ate dinner. You sat on the floor. It was like you were too tired to even get up on the furniture.”

He nodded, “And you curled up on the sofa across from me, tilted your head to one side, and asked me what I thought about when I saw my tattoos.”

She snorted delicately. “You didn’t want to talk about them.”

“And so you sat there and looked at me with those mesmerizing eyes until I did.” His voice was more gentle and yet rougher at the same time.

Cami blinked in surprise but quickly responded. “You tried to tell me you didn’t think about them, that they were just the cost of survival. Of fitting in.”

“You didn’t believe me.”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “I’m not stupid.”

“And so you just watched me and waited until I started telling you what I thought about every morning. Of the years lost. Of losing my wife. Of pain. Of torture. Of trying desperately to not lose hope. Of trying to put that all behind me.” He paused for a few seconds, lost in his memories. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “Do you remember what you did?”

When she spoke, Cami found her own voice reduced to barely a whisper. “I sat behind you on the couch, and started stroking your forehead.”

Lucas swallowed. “It had to have been at least an hour. You just sat there stroking my head, my forehead, my neck, as I talked about what it had been like, getting each of those tattoos, what they represented, about breaking down to the point that I tried to kill myself. It was like being touched by an angel.” His voice trailed off.

Cami reached out her hand and he came to her bedside and took it. She traced her fingertips over the tattoo on his wrist and he sat down on the edge of her bed and enclosed her hand in both of his.

“And then you said, ‘You need someone to touch you without giving you pain.’ And you stood up, and then sat in front of me in that crazy lotus thing you do, and took one of my hands and then you started tracing my tattoos with your fingertips. And you told me about how when you saw them, you thought of strength, and honor, and loyalty, and determination. And you cried. And when you wiped away your tears, and went back to stroking me, I could feel the saltwater on your fingertips. It was like being cleansed.”

“And then I told you that you needed a massage.”

He chuckled. His laugh sounded rough with disuse. “You’re skipping ahead.”

“Am I? I don’t remember leaving anything out.” She played dumb.

“You don’t remember you suddenly getting flustered when you noticed my reaction to you tracing the tattoo on my lower stomach?”

“It was…rather noticeable.” She conceded.

The laughter came again, sounding more natural this time.

“You had me stretch out on my bed and you rubbed my back, my arms, my neck until I was practically asleep. And you got up to leave. And I asked you if you would stay. If you would keep your hand on me until I fell asleep.”

Cami nodded. “I stretched out next to you and rested my hand on your back. I must have fallen asleep before you did, because the next thing I remember is waking up and you were gone.”

Lucas tilted his head to one side and blinked a few times. “You don’t remember anything else?”

Cami shook her head, “Should I?”

Lucas gazed back at her. “I remember more.” His voice had roughened again.

Cami felt heat rising up the back of her neck. “What do you remember?”

“I woke up at some point in the middle of the night. You were all curled up in a ball like you were cold, but your arm was still reached out, your hand on my back. I thought about carrying you into your room, but I didn’t want to disturb you, or at least that’s what I told myself, so I just grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed, and pulled it up to cover us. You slowly stretched out, relaxing with the new warmth. And you reached over in your sleep and found me, and you rested your hand on my chest.”

Cami tried to pull her hand back from him, but he didn’t let it go. She stared at their hands as he started to talk again, reluctant to look up at him, to see the emotions in his face.

“I fell asleep and woke several hours later to sunlight streaming in the windows, spilling across the bed, across your hair that was spread across the pillow, across my chest.” His voice was gravelly, rough with desire. “At some point in the night, I had gathered you into my arms, and I woke with you curled into my side, your head resting on my shoulder. One of my arms was wrapped around you, my other hand over yours on my chest.”

His voice broke, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh, and then shook his head.

“At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss you. To wake you with my touch, to feel your body wrap around mine, to take you, to claim you. I was rock hard with wanting you. But I knew that if I kissed you, that’s where it would end, and you would have to deal with me leaving on weird missions, never getting to know why, to me coming to you bruised, beaten, stinking of explosions and gun powder. Or me not coming home to you at all.”

Cami could feel her body’s reaction to his words, like lava pooling in her stomach, erupting through her veins. He dropped her hand and clasped her face, bringing her gaze to his.

“That’s why I left. I won’t put you through that. I’m not going to hurt you like that. You deserve someone who isn’t going to be constantly dropping burdens of pain and sorrow at your feet.”

“Do I get a voice in this decision?” Cami asked quietly.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated firmly.

“You don’t think you already have?” she cried. “That not knowing where you were for the last month didn’t hurt? I’ve spent the last month wondering if I did something wrong, if I hurt you, or made something worse for you.” She paused, and reached up and took his hands from her face. “Do you know what it was like watching the news every night looking for a clue as to what had happened to you? I called your phone and it was a burner. I wanted to call Thames House and ask if you were safe, but I didn’t have the right. I didn’t even rank as a friend because you would have at least said goodbye to a friend. You didn’t even leave a note. Nothing! You were just  _gone_ and I was alone. Again.”

The sudden change from anger to that quietly whispered last word caused him to drop his head and stare at the ground, wondering again if he had made a mistake in how he had dealt with his growing attraction to her.

“Life sucks, Lucas.” He looked up at her, startled. He had not been expecting her to say that. “Life sucks. Everybody gets hurt, whether on accident or on purpose. You hurt me by trying not to hurt me. Your decision probably hurt you too. But you have to realize that while it’s your job to protect me from the world, it’s not your job to protect me from  _you_. Just because you put your burdens at my feet doesn’t mean I have to pick them up and carry them around. In fact, I’m trained to help other people drop their burdens without picking them up and carrying them. Trust me that I know what I’m doing,” she pleaded with him. “I am damn good at my job. And if you don’t think I am, then fine, go be all macho and protect me from you by refusing to talk to me anymore. But you’re being an imbecile.” He was surprised at the sudden anger in her voice. “I’ve been treating people with combat trauma for years. Some of them have stories worse than yours.”

He recoiled slightly and she nodded. “Yes, some people have had it worse than you, so stop telling yourself the tragic story of Lucas North as the unluckiest person in the world.” Lucas looked like he had bit into something sour. She waited for him to digest that. “I can deal with worse than what you can bring me. I have dealt with worse than you have brought me. And I can still laugh, and I can still blush, and I can still nag you about eating before you fall over from starvation.”

She paused. He could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to say something more. She turned her face away and continued quietly, “I’m more than half in love with you,” she didn’t see his surprise at her confession or the barest hint of a satisfied smile curve his lips, “and the thought of you disappearing from my life hurts. I’ve been doing this for several years now, and I’ve never felt about anyone the way I’ve felt about you. I remember you told me I was naïve and overly optimistic once. I’m not naïve. I know the horrors of the world. But I believe what we do can make things better. You do too. That’s the only way you could have survived what you did. I am tender hearted or soft, or whatever you want to call it, but I’m not fragile. You don’t have to protect me from you.  The universe isn’t out to make you suffer forever, Lucas. Good things can happen to you, too.”

She turned her face back to him. “So, maybe we’re just friends now, or colleagues if I ever get the funding finalized, or we’ll pass each other in the hall like mere acquaintances, but that’s how I feel.”

The silence stretched for several seconds as they regarded each other and was interrupted by her parents walking into the room. Lucas stood and relinquished his place at the side of her bed and as she disappeared under the hugs of her parents, he slipped out of her room. Again.


	20. Chapter 20

Cami woke to find Lucas sitting in the blue vinyl armchair across the room. The light coming in the window had taken on the gray haziness of late evening in a major city. He had a laptop open and was staring intently at the screen. “I wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

He closed his laptop and set it on the rickety faux-wood table next to the chair. “Can I get you some water?”

“That would be nice.” She watched him cross the room to her, still not actually meeting her eyes.

He grabbed the huge hospital mug from the table next to her and held the straw to her mouth.  She took a sip and then took the cup from him. “I think I can hold my own drink.”

His eyes met hers as he smirked. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“Pot.”

“Kettle.”

They both smiled but neither one said anything. Finally, Cami looked away and smoothed the edge of the thin hospital blanket. “So why did you come back? Am I still in danger?”

“We don’t think so.” He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “I came back because I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Cami’s eyes opened slightly wider in mild surprise. The pain medication she was on seemed to make all of her emotions mild, like they were being transmitted through a meter of water before she could experience them. “That’s a change. I didn’t know what to think when you disappeared again.”

“I thought you might want some time with your family.”

She shook her head. “You’re just scared of my mum.”

He blinked a few times before he answered. “Nothing like ‘Hello, I’m the man who got your daughter shot’ to make a lasting first impression.” His head tilted to the side as he smiled sardonically.

It seemed like she could feel her brain wobble as she shook her head. “You are not responsible for this. Uncle Finn shot me, not you.”

“If I’d just listened to you earlier I wouldn’t have gotten–,”

“Stop.” He stopped talking and she beckoned for him to come closer. When he was close enough to touch, she wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “This is  _not_ your fault. You might as well blame me for letting him into my house, or my mum for marrying my dad all those years ago because she ought to have known that his brother would shoot her daughter that wouldn’t exist for another umpteen years. Finn is the only one responsible for shooting me.”

The corded muscle under her hand relaxed the slightest degree. “Fine. I’ll take your professional word on that.”

“Good.”

“Besides being scared of your mum, and wanting a shirt not covered in your blood and gunpowder residue, I stepped out because I had some phone calls to make.”

Cami relaxed back against the thin plasticky pillow trying to get comfortable. She closed her eyes. She was so tired. She shouldn’t be this tired. “The mopping up stages are always the worst for phone calls and paperwork.”

“Well, yes. But I also called Dr. Askenova.”

Her eyes flew open. “Dr.  _Tamara_  Askenova?”

“Yes.”

She sat back up and tried to squish the pillow into some sort of back support but finally gave up. “Why did you call her?”

“I made an appointment with her. I don’t think you should be my therapist anymore.”

It suddenly hurt to breath and she was glad all of her emotions were muted. “Wow.” She stroked her fingers against her lip and then winced as they touched the damaged skin. “I guess this really is you disappearing for good.” She tried to smile at him. “Thanks for at least telling me in advance this time.”

He came closer to her and leaned his hip against the side of the hospital bed. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I know that doctor-patient ethics are very important to you. So I thought I would fire you before I ask if you’d like to have dinner with me when you’re feeling better. A proper dinner, not just takeaway.”

“Dinner.” She was fairly certain something important was going on here besides getting fired by a patient who never paid her anyway.

“Yes, where we eat and talk and maybe share a pudding.” He was watching her like he wasn’t sure that she was following the train of conversation.

“I get my own pudding.” That part she had understood.

“Does that mean you’ll go to dinner with me?”

“Like,” she regarded him warily, “as colleagues?”

He shook his head and set down on the edge of her bed. “Not as colleagues.”

“As friends?” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, instead focusing on the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. She thought she knew what he was getting at, but everything was so clouded in her head and she didn’t want to misinterpret him, especially not about this.

He dipped his head as he tried to meet her gaze. “As more than friends. I want to see how many times I can make you blush before I give in and kiss you.”

Her breath caught. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, mirroring the heat she felt rising in her cheeks.

He smiled and cupped her cheek loosely with his hand, being careful not to touch any of the cuts and scrapes. “Apparently the answer is once.” He gently raised her face and softly brushed his lips against hers for the first time, and then again. She slowly responded as her brain processed that she was being kissed for the first time in over two years. She almost didn’t remember what to do. Her lips parted slightly as he increased the pressure of his mouth on hers, confident now that she wasn’t going to pull away. Their kisses were gentle, forgiving, seeking reassurance in the other’s touch. Even with her split and bruised lips, she felt no desire to stop kissing him. The pain was more than outweighed by the relief and warmth rushing through her body.

Lucas tilted his head more and she parted her lips at the change in pressure and their tongues grazed against each other. She whimpered softly and tried to slide her arms around his neck but grimaced in pain as the motion pulled at the stitches in her shoulder. She left that arm in her lap as she caressed his neck with her other hand.

He scooted closer to her on the edge of the bed and he carefully placed his hand on her waist, making sure it didn’t hurt her to be touched there before he closed his fingers against her with any real pressure. Cami could remember the feel of him pinning her to the ground, of his arm wrapping around her as he held her while she cried, and now the feel of his mouth on hers added to the simmering desire for him that hadn’t gone away in the last empty month. She moved her hand up to his jaw, wanting to feel the rough scrape of a day’s growth of beard against her skin again and his hand slid to her back as she leaned into him and he pulled her even closer. The last month of waiting and wondering and worrying dissolved under his hands and she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth as she broke the kiss long enough to actually fill her lungs.

“So you like to use your teeth, do you, Cami-girl?” he asked huskily against her lips, and then bent his head to her neck, where she felt his teeth nip gently at the tender skin. Her head tilted back as he slowly kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone. His tongue touched her skin as a nurse ‘ahem’ed at them from the doorway.

“You do realize she’s hooked up to a heart monitor, right? So all the nurses start to worry when her heart rate starts accelerating for no discernible reason?”

The two of them looked over at the nurse who had one hand on her hip and a clipboard in her other arm and started laughing.

“Sorry about that,” Lucas offered.

The nurse looked him up and down. “I thought you were supposed to be MI-5.”

“I am.”

“Huh. Remind me to become a threat to the realm someday.” She waved a finger at them. “No more funny stuff, you two. I’ve got enough to do without checking on frisky patients.” She turned and left.

They gave each other guilty smiles and Lucas picked up Cami’s hand and held it again.  He traced the delicate blue lines of her veins with his thumb as he spoke. “I know I’m still broken in a lot of ways. Ways that I don’t know if will ever be made whole again. But if you’re willing to give me a try, knowing what you know, I would be an idiot to turn you down.”

She twisted her hand so their fingers could intertwine. “No more disappearing without letting me know first. I know you can’t tell me everything, but just let me know when I can expect you back.”

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “I promise. No more leaving you alone.”


	21. Chapter 21

Lucas watched from the back door as Cami kicked the football around the garden with her nieces and nephews. She wore a sling to keep from jostling her arm and pulling at the stitches, but that was the only accommodation she made to her injuries. Even as sore as she had to be, it didn’t look to be slowing her down as she ran around the large green space. He hadn’t seen her since she had been released from the hospital a few days earlier, having to content himself with phone calls as her family had wrapped its protective arms around her. He was tired of waiting though and needed to see her himself, so he had driven out to her parents’ house after work. With a careful kick, she sent the ball soaring through two large ash trees serving as the standard. She thrust her arm into the sky in triumph, only to be tackled by half a dozen children half her height who bore her to the ground. He could hear her laughing under the pile of bouncing gingers but Lucas jogged over to her to make sure she hadn’t injured herself anew in the flurry of flagrant fouls committed by the opposing team. He peeled bouncing children off of the pile to reveal a laughing Cami.

He bent over her. “Shouldn’t you be resting or something?”

The scab at the side of her mouth twisted her smile. “You know how well I deal with enforced idleness.”

“I don’t think you’re up for another round of boxing yet. Fancy a walk around the neighborhood instead?”

“That sounds lovely.”

She held out her hand and he helped her to her feet. “Let me go get a coat.”

She came back out with her healthy arm through the sleeve of her jacket and putting on a pair of sunglasses. It wasn’t that bright out, but she wanted to hide her damaged eye as much as possible. The bruising didn’t bother her that much, but the white of her eye being red grossed her out every time she looked in the mirror.

“Can you button this?” He plucked a stray piece of grass from her hair before he pulled her jacket around her side and adjusted it over the sling and then fastened several of the buttons. It was the closest they had been in several days and if not for the small army of children running around screaming, he would have kissed her. Instead, he settled for holding her hand as they left through the side garden and started to walk along the winding streets. Big houses with large gardens sat back from the road. Kids on bicycles chased each other down the road as old trees arched overhead.

“Is this the house you grew up in?”

“Yes. I always thought my parents would sell it when all of us grew up and moved out, but by the time the last one went to university the grandbabies had started showing up.” She looked back over her shoulder at the sprawling home. “It’s weird being back in my old room though, especially since it’s now got sets of bunk beds in there for when all the grandkids come visit at the same time.”

“How many are there in total?”

Her fingers moved in his hand as she tried to remember. “I think it’s up to twenty four now? I’d have to stop and count. The number changes so frequently. All my siblings have kids now.” She pulled her hand back and stuck it in her coat pocket. Lucas wondered how close she and Gideon had been to having children of their own when he was killed. “Have you gotten anywhere with Un…with Finn?”

“Well, he’s agreed to cooperate.”

Cami stared at the ground as they walked. She could feel Lucas watching her, but she couldn’t look at him right now. “What did you have to give him?”

“We offered to put in a MinSec prison with a new identity instead of tying him to Lord Nelson in Trafalgar and putting out an APB to the international security community about where he was and what he’d offered MI-5.”

She could still hear the gunshots echoing, both of the bullet he had put in her and the one she had put in him. The phantom grip of Lucas’s gun was heavy in her palm. “Is he alright?”

“You’re worried about him? He hasn’t so much as asked if you’re alive.”

She shrugged and then grimaced at the pull of the stitches. “He’s my uncle. He was one of my mentors when I was SAS. I can’t just shut off all those feelings so easily.”

That sounded familiar. “Well, you punctured his lung when you shot him, but he’ll survive.”

They walked together in silence for a while before Cami put her hand back in Lucas’s. “Have you done anything to him?” She remembered how violent he had been when Sarah had been assassinated. She needed to know what he had done to Finn after he had gotten her to the hospital.

“No.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Really?”

Lucas paused and looked at her. The kids on bikes split around them as they stood in the middle of the lane. “Harry’s kept me away from him.”

Cami nodded. “Have you gotten anything useful from the information he gave you?”

“I really can’t talk about it, even with you.”

“Ah right.” She started walking again, remembering Gideon answering the same way when she had asked him about his day. “So what shall we talk about?”

“Do you have a curfew?”

She laughed. “A curfew?”

“Well, you’re staying at your parents’ house. I’m not sure how this works.”

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss. “I’m fairly certain I can set my own curfew. I’m ready to go back home anyway. I only stayed here to make Mum feel better.”

He blinked a few times and licked his lips. “Are you certain you’re up to staying by yourself?”

“It’s a few stitches and some cuts and bruises. It’s not like my leg got amputated.”

He took her hand in his again. “Cami, listen to what I’m asking you. Are you certain you’re up to staying by yourself? I stayed with you in the hospital; you’ve been at your parents’ the last two nights. Are you going to be alright?”

Her jaw firmed, her chin jutting out a bit. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to being alone.” She hesitated and then squeezed his hand. “And I’m less alone now than I have been in a long time. I don’t actually need someone in the house with me all the time.”

A smile slowly spread across his face. “Can I take you home then?”

She fought back a laugh, knowing it would hurt his pride. “It really weirds you out coming to my parents house, doesn’t it?”

“I haven’t picked up a girl for a date from her parents’ house in a couple of decades.” It was his turn to shrug. “It’s just odd.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” she nudged him in the side and then started pulling him back towards the house, “if we leave now we’ll be gone before my mum gets back from the market and then I can just ring her later with a  _fait accompli_.”

He chuckled. “You’re scared of your mum too.”

“I’m not scared. I just have a,” she paused as she sought after the correct words, “healthy respect for her will.”

“Well let’s go then. What do you need out of the house?”

“Nothing that I can’t get next week.”

Laughing, they hurried back to Lucas’s car. It wasn’t until they got to Cami’s house that they realized they didn’t have any keys.

She turned to Lucas. “Feel like breaking into my house? Your lock picking skills are probably more up to date than mine.”

“I would never break into someone’s house. My job is to uphold the law,” he said as he pulled a few delicate metal rods out of a packet in his pocket. A few moments later, the door was open.

“Oh.” Cami stood still in her entryway, looking at the shattered glass and broken decor scattered across her floor.

Lucas put his hand on her shoulder. “You go sit, I’ll clean this up.”

She shook her head. “No. I made the mess, I can clean it up.”

“How about I help and when you get tired of being stubborn you can go sit down.”

She shrugged off his hand. “I’m not going to get tired.”

“Right. Show me where the broom is?”

He set to sweeping while she picked photos out from among the wreckage, blowing them off and setting them on the table. She picked up the porcelain shards of the vase and carefully placed them in the rubbish bin. “That was a wedding present from Gideon’s grandmother.”

Lucas stopped sweeping and tried to think of something to say. Cami brushed her hands against her jeans and went into the living room. She shut the door of the safe and picked up her chair and set it back on its feet before she slowly spun around, surveying the room. “I was asleep in this chair when they broke in. I didn’t even hear them until Finn woke me.” She walked over to where the safe was and made sure the false front was completely in place, concealing now empty safe. “He told me he was in trouble and he needed my burner phones and cash so I opened the safe.” She bent down to pick up photos from the floor and started to put them back on the shelf. “Once he emptied the safe he nodded to the guy with him and that’s when I realized they were taking me with them. I know you told me not to fight, but I did.” She stared at one picture in her hand. “I knew if I gave you enough to work with, you’d find me. So I made sure at least some of the blood left behind wasn’t mine.”

He nodded though she wasn’t looking at him. She hadn’t talked about the attack to him at all before this. “You gave us lots to work with. I don’t think we would have found you if it hadn’t been for all the clues you gave us. Kicking out the tail light was brilliant.”

She walked past him, pausing long enough to hand him the photo and kept walking into the kitchen. Lucas looked at the photo. It was Cami with a handsome blond man, both of them in Liverpool kits. He had his arms wrapped around her shoulders and her hand rested on his cheek, a diamond ring on her finger. She was several years younger in the photo and happier. So much happier. Her face was fuller and the worry lines that frequently took up residence on her forehead were completely absent.

She came back from the kitchen with a spray bottle of cleaner and a handful of rags and started cleaning the blood spatter off of the wall. She had to put down the spray bottle after each section and then get a rag to scrub and then pick up the spray bottle again to do the next section. Lucas put the photo on the entry table and went back to sweeping, keeping one eye on Cami but she didn’t seem inclined to talk, choosing instead to scrub steadily. Eventually the damage was cleared away and other than the blank spots on the wall and the missing vase, her house looked normal again.

Lucas came back in from taking the rubbish out to the bin to find Cami staring at the photo, her free hand in the back pocket of her jeans. “Are you alright?”

Her head jerked up. She hadn’t heard him come back in. “I’m fine. I think I’m just tired. Maybe I was a bit stubborn to insist on doing so much cleaning myself.”

In this transitional space he wasn’t sure if he should hug her or not as much as he wanted to. She had new pain lines around her eyes and wasn’t really looking at him. “Should I call for dinner? We could get some take-away.”

It took her several seconds to answer. “I don’t really think I’m up for company. I’m gonna make myself a sandwich and just watch some telly and make it an early night.”

“Are you going to be alright by yourself?”

“Yes. I’m a big girl.”

He gently cupped her face with one hand. “Try and sleep in your bed tonight.”

“What?”

His cocked his head as his eyes travelled over her face. “You said you were sleeping in your chair when they came in. I know six am and asleep in a chair. It’s not good for you.”

“Are you going to be my therapist now?”

“If I thought it would do any good.” He kissed her softly. “Remember to ring your mum. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ring me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He kissed her one more time. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

It was one in the morning when the buzz of his mobile woke him. He thumbed it on without fully opening his eyes. “Hello?”

“I was wrong.”

He was fully alert. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t sleep. Every noise I hear is someone breaking in and I’m terrified that if I fall asleep that someone’s going to get me.”

He threw off the comforter and stood, stretching out the stiffness in his muscles. “Pack a bag. I’m going to come get you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You have until I get there to decide if you want to go back to your parents, to a hotel, or if you’re coming home with me.”


	22. Chapter 22

Lucas put Cami’s bag down on the foot of his bed. She was looking out the window, silhouetted against the light coming in from outside.

“You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She was hugging herself, her shoulders hunching in as she rubbed her hands against her arms. “I know why I’m reacting this way. I know the exact chemical cascades going on in my brain. But knowing doesn’t matter. I can’t turn them off.”

“It’s going to take time, Cami.” He carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. “Even for you, it’s going to take time.”

She had opened her front door before he was done knocking and her hands were trembling. He pulled her into a hug and held her until the muscles under his hands relaxed and she let go. While she wasn’t quite as tense now, she still was rigid in his arms and as he kissed her temple, she flinched at the contact.

“Let’s get you into bed. You need some sleep.”

She had just thrown a hoodie on over her pajamas so she took that off. The bandages covering her shoulder were visible under the thin strap of her camisole. Lucas gently touched the edge of the medical tape holding them in place. “Do you need to change those?”

“Not until the morning.”

“Alright then. Into bed with you.” He pulled back the duvet for her, and after she had awkwardly situated herself he tucked it up around her and then kissed her forehead. He leaned over her and picked up the other pillow.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at her, her hair spread out on his pillow like it had been that morning in the hotel room. “I was going to go sleep on the sofa.”

She brushed her hand against his. “You don’t have to, I mean, I don’t want you to do that. Please stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. If it’s not too hard, I mean, too difficult for you. I mean, I don’t take up a lot–,”

He put his fingers against her lips and she stilled. The heat coming off of her cheeks scorched his fingertips. It was difficult to reconcile this blushing stammering girl with the woman who had shot a man with no remorse until he remembered that she had met her husband when she was eighteen and didn’t know how to have these sorts of intimate conversations with anyone else.

“I’ll stay. You simply have to ask.” He walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to her, reaching under her pillow to remove his gun and stash it under the one on which he now rested his head. He looked over at her, resting on her side, the pucker of the bandages ruining the otherwise smooth line of her shoulder. “Do you want me to hold you?”

He heard the rub of her head against the pillow more than saw her nod, but he moved closer and wrapped an arm around her waist. She slipped her foot between his ankles and let out a deep breath. He waited until she was asleep, a warm limp weight resting against him, before he let himself tighten his arm around her waist and bury his face against her hair. He inhaled the scent that he had forgotten over their month apart from each other and his muscles began to unknot at the familiar scent. Somehow, he felt safer with her in his bed as well.

***

Lucas was in one of the top secret planning rooms adding more photos to the board. Their team was going through the thousands of pages of information and photos they had gathered from the information Finn had given them. The scope of Nightingale’s network was staggering. Sarah hadn’t been exaggerating when she had claimed they had infiltrated every major intelligence organization in the world. As a global map of traitors emerged, Harry was being faced with a major problem: what to do with the information? There were no guarantees that this intelligence revealed all of Nightingale’s network and so to turn it over to those higher ranking could compromise the prosecution or removal of those involved.

Ruth came into the room and offered him a piece of paper. “I thought you might want to see this. It’s the forensics on the blood collected at Cami’s house. Some of it was hers, but some of it belongs to an Alexei Chervonenko. He has several other known aliases, but he’s basically a weapons dealer and smuggler. It’s thought that he’s been active in Georgia and Chechnya in the past few years.”

“What was he doing working with Finn?”

“I have no idea. We’re running down his back history now looking for connections, but so far we haven’t found anything to link the two men.”

Dimitri flipped through several of the pages on the table and handed one to Lucas. “This is somewhere to start.”

Lucas looked down at the paper. “What in the hell is a weapons dealer doing working for Nightingale?”

Dimitri shrugged. “I don’t know, but at least we know the connection now.”

“Dimitri, go talk to Finn. I want to know what he and Chervonenko were doing together. And Ruth, let’s see if we can get some travel records. I want to know how long he was in England and where he is now. If he’s still in London, we might need to take Cami back into protection.” Lucas rubbed his forehead at the thought of that conversation. He was positive she would absolutely hate it though with her current troubles sleeping she might appreciate the thought of someone keeping an eye on her.

He rang her on his mobile to check in with her. He had helped her change the dressings on her injuries this morning before he left for work and the wounds looked to be healing cleanly. He had placed a kiss on her shoulder after he had finished rebandaging the injury and she had blinked back a few tears. His wiping them away had led to him kissing them away which had led to a long sweet kiss that had left them both breathless. She was better than coffee in the morning.

He tried not to worry when her phone went to voice mail and went back to linking together the different individuals on the wall into a workable network. It seemed that most of them didn’t know about each other, as each member of the leadership ran and maintained their own operatives to carry out the organization’s mission. They had taken out Russell Price and several members of his team during their attempt to start a nuclear war between India and Pakistan. That left twelve more leaders to go, each with their own team of operatives.  He was realizing again how lucky they had been to prevent a global crisis when his phone rang.

“You called?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. Did you get any more sleep after I left?”

“No. I’ve been with patients all morning and I have meetings all afternoon.”

His eyebrows rose at her response. He hadn’t known she was back at work already. “What do you want to do this evening?”

“Um, I’m actually going to go stay with my sister-in-law. I can’t stay with you.”

Pain knifed through his chest at her words. Was she really breaking off what they had started so quickly? “Why not? I don’t mind.”

“I know, but it’s too much, too soon. We’ve been in these situations that have created a forced intimacy. I’ve been your therapist, we were in a safehouse together for two weeks. It’s not natural. We know way too much about each other; we’re too familiar with each other for as brand new as this thing we have is and I need to have my own space.”

He nodded and paced the floor, grateful for the privacy provided by the completely closed off room. “So, do you need some time away from me?”

“I just need to not be living with you. I need to not be living in the house I lived in with my husband for so many years. I’d been thinking about selling but after this I don’t think I can go back. So I’m going to stay with Cassandra for the next little bit and I’m going to talk to a realtor this afternoon about selling the house and finding me a flat. Maybe in a building with a doorman.”

“Alright.” He considered and quickly discarded telling her she might have to be taken back into protection. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night? Maybe a film afterwards?”

“That would be nice. And Lucas,” she paused.

“Yes?”

“Cassandra was married to my brother Conor, the one that died. She remarried last year and I’m hoping I can get some advice from her on how to move on.” He heard her swallow. “How to date as a widow.”

He sighed softly, the fear her earlier words had elicited fading into compassion. “I can be as patient as you need me to be. Neither of us should probably be rushing into things right now.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

They set a time for him to pick her up the next evening and she promised to text him directions. He was back working at the board when Ruth came back in.

“We found Chervonenko on the security footage at Heathrow. He flew out yesterday under an assumed name and Ukrainian passport. We have him landing in Frankfurt and catching a connecting flight later that night in Yerevan.”

He took the printout from Ruth and looked at the grainy footage from the Heathrow cameras. It was definitely their man. “Any idea what he’s doing in Armenia?”

“None at all. But I’ll start looking through at internet chatter and see if I find anything of interest. It’s not a country we normally pay much attention to.”

“Right. And send Beth in here. I want her to start pulling any references to Armenia or Chervonenko in the Nightingale files. At least it’s a place to start.”


	23. Chapter Twenty three

Lucas peered in Cami’s open office door, smiling at the glasses perched on the end of her nose as she peered at a huge book open on her desk. He rapped on her door and she looked up and smiled to see him standing there.

“I didn’t think to see you until this evening.”

“I had some things I needed to talk to you about for the case. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Pull up a chair.” He shut the door behind him and she closed the large volume on her desk and set her glasses on top of it. “What’s going on?

Lucas slid a photo of Chervonenko across the desk and Cami picked it up. “Do you recognize him?”

She stared at the picture. “He was one of my abductors, wasn’t he?” Her eyes lifted to Lucas and her smile had disappeared, replaced with lips firmly pressed together. “The man with Uncle Finn that morning?”

“His blood was found in your house.”

“Then yes. Who is he?” She pushed the photo back across the desk and wiped her hand on her trousers.

“An arms dealer. Any idea why he would be working with your uncle?”

She shook her head slowly. “None at all. Uncle Finn was always on the technical side of things. He didn’t plan operations.”

Lucas sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.

“Are you alright?”

He slouched back in his chair. “Just tired.”

She knew she wasn’t his therapist anymore, but a girlfriend could ask the same questions. Not that she was his girlfriend. Or was she? Things were very nebulous right now and she didn’t know what to expect from Lucas. “Not sleeping well?”

“I slept great two nights ago.” He smirked and she felt her cheeks heat. “Last night, not so much.”

“Flirt.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth.” He shrugged his shoulders and then stretched, rubbing his shoulder with a hand and grimacing at the pain in his tight muscles. “The nights I’ve had you in my arms are when I’ve slept best since this entire mess started.”

The smirk faded into something raw and vulnerable as she watched and she crossed from behind her desk and held out a hand to him. He took it with a questioning look and she laughed. “I was going to pull you to your feet, but I think you’re going to have to help me here.”

“Your stitches healing fine?” he asked as he stood.

She nodded and tugged him to the long sofa that filled one wall of her office. “Lay down. I flipped the ‘with a patient’ light on so you’ve got an hour.”

He looked at the overstuffed sofa and back at her. “You want me to take a nap?” His eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“I know I’m not your therapist anymore, but you need one. The circles under your eyes aren’t as dark as your hair, but almost.” She brushed a finger across the delicate skin under his eyes.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm of it. “Rest with me?”

“Of course.” The color rose in her cheeks again, embarrassed at how much his simple request meant to her. She hadn’t known how he would respond to her moving in with her sister-in-law and insisting on some time to get used to the change in their relationship, and when he had just dropped into the chair across from her desk instead of kissing her hello, she had thought he might be having second thoughts. “I’m supposed to be on half time while I’m recuperating anyway.”

“Then come here.”

It took a minute for them to find a position that was comfortable for both of them, but they finally relaxed with Lucas on his back and Cami resting on her side, between him and the sofa.  As comfortable as she was, it was impossible for her to sleep. She struggled with keeping her eyes closed as she watched the slow rise and fall of Lucas’s chest. The small bumps of his shirt buttons called out to her to undo them. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him shirtless before.

If she was honest with herself, she was scared of having sex with Lucas. With anyone actually. It was the final step in admitting that Gideon was really gone and wasn’t ever going to come home. She knew he wasn’t coming back, but there were so many steps to moving on. It had taken over a year for her to stop wearing her wedding band. Gideon was the only man she had ever had sex with. She had always thought that he would be the only man she would ever have sex with. And then there had been a knock on the door and her university sweethearts fairy tale had slipped from her hand and shattered like a glass slipper.

Lucas was a good man. He and Gideon would probably have been friends. And even if Lucas wasn’t  _the one_ , he was a good one, and that’s what she needed to start getting on with her life, and stop living in her memories. She’d finally stopped thinking of herself as married a while ago; Lucas gave her the courage to think of herself as single.

Lucas interrupted her reverie. “I feel old.”

She tilted her head so she could look up at him, but was presented with the line of his jaw as he stared at the ceiling, a hand under his head. “You’re not old.”

“I know.” He tightened the arm he had wrapped around her waist. “But I feel old. And it’s not just that everyone else on the team is so young. The world was a different place when I joined MI-5. I went into Lushanka before 9-11 happened. I almost never carried a gun. We knew who the enemies were. We didn’t have to make the life and death calls every day. And now we have a list of individuals that we’re considering assassinating because we have no way of guaranteeing they’ll be brought to justice by their legal systems. This isn’t the MI-5 that I joined.”

This was an odd sort of melancholy for him. He’d always been very dedicated to MI-5. “I remember you talking about how you joined MI-5 because it operated where the systems failed. What’s changed?”

“This is the new system. Everything’s extra-legal or quasi-legal or just done in the shadows. We don’t look to the legal system to solve things first anymore. I’m part of the problem now, instead of being the solution.”

She rested her hand on his chest, surreptitiously taking his pulse. His heart rate was slow and steady. This wasn’t him speaking out of anger. “That’s a big change for you.”

“I don’t know what I accomplish anymore.”

“What brought this on?”

“Partly you. Watching you get hurt and knowing that the man who did it isn’t going to face any sort of substantive punishment for it because he has information we need. I got into this because I believed in things and I don’t think I’m accomplishing that anymore. Partly Ros. We prevent one crisis and it doesn’t really mean anything. There’s always another emergency. I’m the little boy with his finger in the dike while someone else is setting C4 charges to blow the whole thing up. I’ve seen so many of my colleagues die since I got back. Maybe my teenage immortality is wearing off. Maybe I’m realizing that if I keep on like I am now, sooner or later someone’s going to put a bullet in my head.”

Cami pushed herself awkwardly into a sitting position so she could see Lucas’s face. She draped her legs over his thigh and rested her hand on his stomach. “So why are you telling me this today?” Therapist or girlfriend or neither, she wanted him to feel comfortable to talk to her. He so rarely opened up that when he did, she wanted to keep him talking as long as possible.

“I fielded a call from Scotland Yard today. We have intel putting Chervonenko in Armenia right now.”

“Armenia? What’s he doing there?” She had to stop and think to remember where Armenia even was.

“We’re really not sure. We’ve been looking for connections and discovered a string of murders of Armenian nationals in London over the last few weeks. I went down to Scotland Yard and talked to the DI in charge of the murders and I was thinking how nice it must be to actually put someone in prison. To actually make a measurable difference. That you helped an actual victim, rather than trying to ward off the nebulous cloud of impending doom that hangs over us all the time.”

“Maybe you should’ve picked up a job application.” She smiled and took his hand, wanting to dispel the gloom of his mood with the warmth of her touch.

“I couldn’t.”

Her eyes widened at the serious tone. She had simply been teasing him. “Why not?”

“Harry needs me. Who’s he going to put in charge of section D if I leave? Dimitri?”

Cami felt herself slipping back into therapist mode. Maybe it was because she was in her office. Maybe it was because he’d been her patient before. Gideon had always teased her about going into therapist mode at home with him when he would bring up a serious topic. “Why not?”

Lucas snorted. “He’s so young.”

“Let me guess, he was your age before you got captured.”

She could see the surprise register in his eyes. “Well, yes.”

“When you had your own team.”

He didn’t answer and she giggled. “You are an old man. Go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Lucas looked at their interlocked fingers. “Why do I sleep better when I’m touching you?”

“Because you know you’re safe. You trust me to protect you.”

His eyes darkened as he gazed at her face. She watched them flicker over her features before he looked her in the eyes again. “Why do I trust you so easily?”

Cami looked down at their hands, not knowing how to answer that question. “That one you’ll have to answer for yourself.”

“I don’t want to go back to work, Cami. I’ve always wanted to go to work. Since I’ve been back I’ve always wanted to be busy. But right now I just want to spend the afternoon with you in my arms.”

This conversation was quickly moving away from its maudlin beginnings and into more intimate territory. She tried to keep a light tone in her voice as she responded. “Well, my schedule is free, but I think Harry might have something to say about you skiving off for an afternoon nap.”

“Right now, I’m not sure I care.” His phone buzzed and Lucas sighed before he retrieved it from his pocket.

“Hello?”

“Lucas. This is Ruth. I found something I think you might find interesting. Kamran Jamshidi and Samir Rajavi both flew into Yerevan in the twelve hours preceding Chervonenko. They are both first sons of fairly powerful ruhanis in Iran. They’re both known for actively speaking out in favor of democratic reforms in the country and the only thing protecting them has been their fathers. We don’t know if they are meeting Chervonenko yet, but if they are, there are many ways this could be very bad.”

“Thanks, Ruth.” Lucas rubbed his forehead. “Where are we with Chervonenko’s financials?”

Cami got to her feet as he spoke. It looked like his nap was going to be cut short. Not that he actually had slept at all.

“We’re still tracking them down. He seemed to be a cash only operator but Tariq thinks he may have found a protected account in the Caymans.”

“We’ll never get permission to look at that.”

“We’ll keep digging. He has to have had someone to accept electronic payments and we’ll find it.”

“Anything else?”

“We’re pulling Jamshidi’s and Rajavi’s emails and internet activity to see if they’ve been sending messages. It’s slow going because we don’t have a lot of people around here that read Farsi.”

Lucas looked up at Cami as she put her glasses back on. “I may be able to help with that.”


	24. Chapter 24

Cami sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She felt like she was back in school, poring over text books until the wee hours of the morning. This time it was the classified files that Finn handed over and the emails of two democratic activists in Iran under the sterile hum of fluorescent lights rather than the elegantly appointed reading room however. She had her Farsi reference books open, checking certain colloquialisms for certainty before she translated them. She’d been working in MI-5 for a week now and her fluency in the language was almost back to where it had been when she had been working as an intelligence analyst for the SAS.

Lucas stopped at her desk and leaned against it. “Finding anything interesting?”

She shrugged and stretched her arms overhead, being careful not to pull too hard against her new scars. “Lots of bird references.”

“Birds?”

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, don’t put all your eggs in one basket, coming home to roost. Things like that. The odd thing is that they aren’t being phrased like they should be. It’s like they are translating things from English into Farsi, rather than using linguistically indigenous phrasing.”

“So what does that mean? That they aren’t native speakers?”

She shook her head and reached for her coffee mug. “I don’t think so. The only time I catch that is when they are using bird references; the other colloquialisms they are using are all indigenous to the language. I’m going to talk to Ruth and see if she has any ideas what they may be signaling.”

“You think they’re up to something?”

She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. It was cold. She always lost track of time in these windowless rooms. “Definitely. I just don’t know what. Did we ever get proof of them meeting with Chervonenko?”

Dimitri turned around from his desk and answered. “No. We just know they were both in the same city at the same time.  Jamshidi and Rajavi are back in Tehran, and Chervonenko seems to have gone to ground.”

“And Finn still isn’t talking?” Cami asked him. Neither she nor Lucas had been allowed to communicate with him.

“No. He swears he has no idea what Chervonenko is doing now.”

“Did we ever figure out what they were doing together in the first place?” Beth asked. It was the end of a long day and no one really wanted to keep poring through files. Cami remembered these informal briefings from her days at the SAS, when the team would just gather and touch base, share information, and ask any questions that had popped up during the day.

“Finn said that he got some files that Nightingale needed to get the explosive out of India and Chervonenko was the go-between,” Dimitri answered her.

“But what were they doing together over a month later?” Cami asked. “You would think that with the disaster the India/Pakistan thing turned out to be, they would have all kept their heads down, not reached out to each other.”

“He needed another person to help him snatch Cami. Chervonenko was here, someone he knew would keep his mouth shut?” Beth suggested.

Ruth shook her head, the files she was working with clutched to her chest. “You call an international arms dealer to help you kidnap someone? That seems like a mismatch.”

Lucas turned to where she stood on the outside of the group. “What are you suggesting?

“That Chervonenko grabbing Cami for Finn was his end of the bargain. That Finn got something for Chervonenko in exchange.”

Lucas tilted his head to the side as he considered the idea. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t have turned it over until Chervonenko fulfilled his end of the bargain. Maybe there was something at the shipping yard.”

Cami hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms. “I never saw Chervonenko after he helped Finn get me into that abandoned warehouse. He never was at the shipping yard that I saw.” Lucas put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed and the rest of the team ignored the comforting gesture. Everyone had noticed the extra attention the two gave each other, but were all scrupulously keeping quiet about it.

Dimitri scratched his forehead as he talked, slumped in his chair. “Finn wouldn’t have weapons to give him though. He didn’t have that kind of access.”

“Not weapons,” Cami answered. “Either weapons plans or information on the security systems at weapons facilities. What was Finn going after when he tripped the system?”

“Tripped the system?” Beth asked.

“When he called Harry the first time with the ransom request, he said getting the new ID was something he used to be able to do himself, but that he couldn’t pull that lever anymore. He must have tripped something in the network to put him under suspicion to get his identity flagged like that. What was it?”

Lucas looked around the circle but no one had an answer. “We should probably find out.” Lucas turned around and yelled, “Tariq!”

The young man joined their circle. “What are we all talking about?”

“How do you feel about hacking into the SAS computer system?” Lucas asked.

Tariq grinned. “Are you going to come visit me in prison?”

“Your grave maybe,” Lucas replied with a smirk. “The SAS tends to get tetchy about who plays with their stuff.”

Cami covered her mouth with her hand so no one would see her smile. Tetchy was a polite way of putting it.

“What are you looking for?” Tariq didn’t seem intimidated.

“What systems Finn hacked in his last few days at work.”

His forehead lowered as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You want me to hack into the SAS computer system to recreate a hack into another system?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to need more coffee.”

Lucas took the mug off of Cami’s desk and handed it to him. “You can do it, though?”

“If you give me enough time. It would be easier if you could give me access to the SAS system somehow so I’m not fighting that security while I try and hack into the same systems he accessed.”

Cami took the cold mug back from him. “I still have my SAS access codes.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I’m still active, I’m just on assignment.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road.”

They followed Tariq back to his corner of the grid. Cami logged herself into the remote access system for the SAS and then stood back. They all watched as Tariq started typing. He paused and then turned around to look at them. “This is going to take a long time; it’s not like in the movies. Go home. Have dinner. I’ll call you if I find anything.” He shooed them off and they sheepishly walked away. Lucas followed Cami back to her area.

He propped his hip on her desk as she sat back down in her chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Human.”

He blinked several times and smiled. “Well, that’s better than the alternative I guess.”

“No. It’s good. It’s really good. My stitches are out, my eye looks normal again, the bruises are almost completely gone. I get to go back to work full time on Monday. It’s good.”

“So, you’re not going to be here anymore?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

She rested her hand on his knee for a moment before pulling it back. She knew everyone was aware that they were dating, but didn’t like to call attention to it. “You knew I wasn’t going to be here forever. I was just filling in while I was on medical leave.”

“I’ve gotten used to seeing you here. To giving you a ride home each night.” A smile played at his mouth.

She tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Eventually home.” Each night they would stop for dinner somewhere and talk for hours or pick up something quick and then walk aimlessly together, hand in hand. And then they would end up kissing in the car when he dropped her off, and then he would walk her to the door and they would end up kissing more.

“Eventually.” He rubbed his fingers against his mouth for a moment.  “You know, if you wanted to come over to Thames House, I’m sure Harry would hire you.”

“If I was going to stop being a therapist, it wouldn’t be to go back to this.” She looked around the grey impersonal room.

“What would you do?”

“Teach languages, like I thought I would before Gideon changed my life.”

Lucas waited for her eyes to refocus on the present. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah. I think my eyes are going to cross if I try and read anything else tonight.”

“Did you want to go get dinner? Maybe catch a film?” He stood up and stretched. Everyone had been spending a lot of time hunched over at their computer today and had stiff muscles

“Actually,” she started to log off her computer,” I thought we could drop by Cass’s so I could get a few things, and then we could spend the night at your place.”

Lucas froze with both arms over his head. “The _night_ or the _evening_?”

She glanced up at him as she tapped out the final few keystrokes. “The night. There’s only so many times I can kiss you goodnight on the doorstep and send you on home before I want to go home with you.”

Lucas stopped stretching and smoothed down the front of his shirt. “Alright. Let me get my coat.”

He held her hand as they drove to her sister-in-law’s house debating the best Bond movies. They had discovered a mutual love for James Bond, both on paper and in celluloid, and while they both agreed that _Goldfinger_ was the best film, Lucas held out that _On Her Majesty’s Secret Service_ was the second best, while Cami was making the argument in favor of _From Russia with Love._

Lucas stopped the car in front of Cass’s house.

Cami undid the safety belt. “Do you want to come in? Cass is very interested in this Jeremy fellow that has me all aflutter. Her word, not mine.”

Lucas leaned across the divide between their seats. “I don’t make you flutter?” he said, his voice dark with secrets and promises.

“Well, when you sound like that you do.” She shuddered and he kissed her. “I’m going to get out of the car now before I haul you into the backseat and your legs are entirely too long for that to be comfortable.”

He smiled. “I’ll come in with you.”

Cami opened the front door and called out for Cass. “I’ve got someone here you might want to meet.”

She came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel.

“Cass, this is Jer–,”

Cass’s eyes ballooned and the towel fell unheeded to the rug. “Lucas?”

Cami fell silent as she turned to Lucas, wondering how her sister-in-law could possibly know his real name.

He wore a similarly stunned expression. “Cassie?”


	25. Chapter 25

Cassie lurched forward and hugged Lucas, who wrapped his arms around her and swung her in a circle. “Oh my god, it really is you!”

Lucas set her gently on her feet with a huge grin on his face. “It really is me.”

“How are you here? I thought you were dead.” The smile on Cass’s face faded and she slapped him across the face. “God dammit, Lucas, I thought you were dead! We all did! I went to your funeral! Oh my god, do your parents know?”

Lucas rubbed the red mark on his cheek. “No, they don’t. They can’t.”

“What the hell, Lucas?” How could you do this to everyone? We mourned you. _I_ mourned you!”

“I know.” His jaw clenched as he fought to stay in control of himself. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“You faked your death and changed your name! How is that not a choice?”

He reached out to her but she shook his hand off of her shoulder. “Cassie, you have to trust me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

The cheerful floral wallpaper swam in front of Cami’s eyes and she felt smothered in the small entryway. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Lucas and Cass looked at each other and then at Cami. “Cassie and I knew each other growing up.”

“Knew each other? We were best friends through secondary.”

Lucas smiled at her. “And then your parents shipped you off to that fancypants college.”

Cass turned back to Cami. “Even after I left we still saw each other at holidays and such.” She turned back to Lucas. “The big Christmas party your parents threw every year.”

“And then New Year’s Day brunch at your parents.” Their shared smiles were steeped in memories.

“And then you became an officer in the military and we didn’t see each other that much. You were deployed a lot. And then you went missing.” Her smile started to fade. “And then they told us you were dead. What was that, you got some of your buddies to come knock on your parents’ door and put them through hell? How could you do that?”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Lucas repeated.

Cami touched her on the shoulder. “It really wasn’t, Cass. Please, believe me. If he could have prevented it, he would have.”

“How do you know?” Cami regarded her calmly and Cassie looked between Lucas and Cami and then back to Lucas. “Wait, _she_ knows what happened? You’ve been dating her two weeks and she already deserves more of your honesty than I do?”

“It’s not like that. She figured it out.”

“Oh, so she’s smarter than me?”

“No. Cassie, please, just trust me. If I could tell you what happened, I would. But you can’t tell anyone I’m alive, do you understand?”

“Why? What would happen?” She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and snapped a quick picture. “What happens if I send this to your parents?” She waved the mobile at Lucas.

Cami grabbed the phone from her hand. “Cassie, stop this. He can’t tell you anything. Now, stop, and think for a second. You know what is going on here. If you would just stop and think, you know what this is. You know what I do for a living. You _know_ what happened, and why he can’t talk about it.”

She stopped and looked back and forth between Lucas and Cami and the realization started to dawn in her eyes. She crossed her arms across her chest. “You’ve known him longer than two weeks, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

She turned back to Lucas. “You were in ‘the military’ like my Conor was in ‘the military’, weren’t you?”

Lucas didn’t say anything.

“And you weren’t missing, were you? We knew where you were, but we couldn’t get you back?”

Lucas looked at the floor and then back up at her. He couldn’t say anything. But she knew him so well she could read his silence.

“How long?”

Cami watched him fight with the urge to spill his story without violating the secrecy he was sworn to. “Give me your coat.”

Lucas’s brows rose as he looked at Cami. “What?”

“Give me your coat.”

He slipped off the black jacket and handed it to Cami. She gave the coat to Cass.

She looked up at Lucas. “Trust me?”

He nodded.

She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down his shoulders and then stood out of the way. Cassie’s eyes widened as she looked at the tattoos covering his chest and arms, and she covered her mouth with her hand.  “Oh Lucas, what did they do to you?”

Cami turned him around so his back was to Cassie. “Count.”

Cami held Lucas’s hand and rested the side of her head against his arm as Cass counted the domes tattooed on Lucas’s back.

“They held you eight months?”

Cami shook her head.

“Ye…” She swallowed and her hand flew to her mouth to cover her trembling chin. “They held you eight years?” Her forehead wrinkled as tears filled her eyes. 

Cami didn’t answer, she just pulled Lucas’s shirt back up and began redoing the buttons.

Cassie silently walked out of the foyer and as Cami finished buttoning up Lucas’s shirt, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, that was unexpected.”

Lucas hugged her close, running a hand up and down her back. “Are you alright?”

“Did you two have sex?”

“Me and Cassie? No.” Lucas huffed out a laugh, or as close to it as he could manage in the moment. “She was a sister to me.”

“Then I’m fine. How about you?”

He continued to stroke Cami’s back as he thought. He finally answered.“It’s weird. She’s the only part of my past I’ve run into, besides Elizabeta, obviously. I thought that part of my life was completely closed off and put away, but it seems to be much more resilient than I had thought.”

“The past never really goes away. You just learn to make peace with it or it keeps haunting you.”

He tipped her face up so he could see her, see the effect this latest bout of revelations had etched on her face. “Have you made peace with your past, Cami?”

She nodded and stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him. “It’s time for a new chapter. Thirty’s too young to give up on a happy future.”

A smile fought to emerge from the memories drowning it. “You know we don’t have to do anything tonight. I’d be happy to just hold you all night.”

“We’ll play it by ear. I’m more worried about you right now than anything.”

“I’m fine. Should we go check on Cassie?”

As the words left his mouth, she came back into the foyer where the two of them stood, arms linked around the other. “I’ve been going through the pictures from our wedding, all the ones that people took and sent us, to finally get them ready to put in an album. I thought you might want these.”

She handed two photos to Lucas. He looked at the top one and then rubbed his face as the air got knocked out of him. “They’ve gotten so old.”

“She started to go grey when you went missing. She was completely white by your funeral.”

Cami looked at the couple in the photo standing with Cass. That day had been beautiful, and watching Cass be happy again after so long had started her wondering how long it would be before she felt like even going on a date, much less contemplate marrying again. She didn’t remember the couple in the photo being there, but it was obvious that Lucas took after his father.

Lucas turned to the second photo. “Are those Matthew’s?”

“Yes. That’s Rebekah, she’s about eight. And that’s little Stephen. Stephen Lucas. He’s about five. Annabelle is two in that picture, and I just saw on Facebook that Samantha is pregnant again.”

Lucas was transfixed by the photo. The man must be Lucas’s brother. He had the same strong features and dark hair, but a much happier expression than the stoic one that normally graced Lucas’s face. “I remember them getting married. It’s one of the last things that happened before I left.”

“Everyone misses you. I won’t tell anyone you’re back, Jeremy, but if you do ever find a way back to being Lucas, there are lots of people who would love to welcome you home.”

He handed the pictures back to her but she shook her head. “You keep them. I’ll print another copy for me.”

“Thank you.”

Cami watched Lucas stare at the photos, tracing over the faces with his finger. “I’m going to go grab a few things. I’ll be right back.”

Cami went to the guest room and was followed by Cassie, who shut the door behind her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting a few things. I’m going to spend the night at Jeremy’s.” She got the box of condoms she had purchased at the chemist’s a week ago and put it in her purse, grateful that she always carried a huge bag.

“That’s obvious, but why are you getting involved with someone in the security services again? You know how this can end up. You _know_ how much this can hurt.”

“Because I also know that it can be wonderful. You loved Conor. I loved Gideon. I wouldn’t give away the years I had with him for anything.”

Cass leaned back against the bedroom door. “Can’t you find someone nice? Someone with a normal job?”

“Like you did? Marry an accountant or a barrister or something?”

“Yes! Why are you seeking out more pain?”

Cami folded and refolded the clean pair of knickers she had gotten out of the drawer. “Do you know what it feels like to break someone’s neck? The sound is makes when the spinal column snaps?”

“No.”

“Do you know what brain matter feels like when you wipe it off your face?”

“God, Cami, don’t be disgusting.”

“I’m not being disgusting. I know those things.” She threw the knickers in her purse with more force than necessary. “You seem to forget that I wasn’t an accountant or a barrister or a chemist or any of those other professions with nice normal offices and nice normal hours and four weeks of paid holiday. I was in the SAS, and maybe I like knowing that the guy next to me in my bed understands my nightmares because he’s lived them too.”

Cass ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t talk about it a lot. Gideon and I… Gideon talked me down more than once after coming home from a mission and I did the same for him. And I talked Conor down more than once too. We all took care of each other and never told you because there’s things you just don’t talk about with people who can’t understand because they’ve never been there. I don’t have Conor anymore and I don’t have Gideon. But maybe, _maybe_ , Lucas and I can be there for each other.”

“Are you still…I thought you were being a therapist now.”

“I’m still active. I haven’t been sent out on assignment in a long time, and I’m usually more of an intel girl than a field op, but if they need me I could be sent back out to the field. Try explaining _that_ to an accountant.” She walked into the en-suite and started gathering what she would need into a small leopard print bag.

“I…I’m sorry. I just…I never lived that way. He never really told me much about what he did. I didn’t even know he was MI-5 until he died.”

“Yes, well, that’s the way it normally works.” She tossed the small bag of toiletries in her purse. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have other plans for the evening.”

“Just be careful.”

Cami rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you the one pushing me to get out there a few days ago?”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting you to leap into the deep end of the pool.”

Lucas was putting his coat back on when Cami and Cass walked back into the entry way. “You ready to go?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

Cami was about to take Lucas’s hand when a knock came at the door. Cami opened it to see two dark-suited males standing there. “Camwyn Reynolds?”

“Yes?”

“You need to come with us, ma’am,” one of them said. The other regarded her with a blank expression. Cami saw the slight distortion in his suit jacket that meant he was armed.

She took a step back into the house. “What? What is this about?”

“You’re under investigation for violating the Official Secrets Act.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You need to come with us.”

Lucas stepped forward and put his arm in front of Cami. “Excuse me, I’m with MI-5.” He pulled out his identification and showed it to them. “What’s this about?”

“Ms. Reynolds used her government logon to access classified military files this afternoon, sir.”

Lucas’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand,” he started but was cut off.

“Sir, I don’t care if you are MI-5. She’s coming with us now and if you have any questions, you can call and file a complaint.”

Lucas stepped in front of Cami and pushed her back. “I want your ID number. I want to call and verify who you are before you take her.” Lucas rang Tariq. “Hey, I’ve got some guys here claiming to be from the SAS taking Cami into custody for hacking their computer system.”

“No! Nooooooo. They shouldn’t have been able to see me.”

“Can you please verify that the following individuals actually work for their organization?” He fed Tariq their ID numbers and names. “And send their photos to my phone.”

“While I’m running these, you have to hear this. I found out what Finn was after.”

Lucas turned his back on the men. “What?”

“He downloaded the blueprints for the newest UAV model.”

Lucas bit his lip to keep from swearing. “Anything else?”

“Security protocols for the inventory system on the RAF bases. And yes, those two names check out. I’ll send you their photos now.”

“Thanks. Is Harry still in the office?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Let him know what you just told me, and to expect a call from me momentarily.”

“I will.”

The photos matched the faces at the door. “Fine. You will be hearing from me.”

Cami handed her bag to Lucas, but one of the suited men took it from her hands. “Your personal effects are coming with us. No getting rid of evidence that easy.”

“It’s a box of condoms, a toothbrush, and a clean pair of knickers. I’m not sure that that’s evidence of anything other than you ruining my plans for the evening.” The men looked from her to Lucas, who raised an eyebrow at them and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Nevertheless ma’am, it needs to come with us.”

Lucas hugged her tightly and kissed her. “I will get you back, Cami. I promise.”

“I know.” She smiled up at him and stroked his cheek. “This is kind of turning into our thing.”

“We should come up with a new thing.”

She kissed him one last time. “Definitely.”

Lucas watched as the men loaded Cami into a black sedan, memorized the plate number, and then called Harry.

“Tariq just informed me that you had him use Cami’s logon to hack the SAS computer system.”

“Yes.”

“That may not be the most reckless decision you’ve ever made, but I would hazard a guess that it would be in the top ten.”

Lucas closed his eyes with a sigh and rubbed his forehead, trying to release the tension already knotting his muscles. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“So did crossing the Rubicon, I’m sure. You should come back in. If I have a long night of phone calls ahead of me because of your decision making skills, you do too. And we need to discover what McCrae did with the plans for unmanned drones and how fast one of them can be built once you have the plans.”

“I’ll be right there.”


	26. Chapter 26

It was dark and cold in the empty car park. The halogen lamps threw everything into sharp shadow, like ghastly haunts back from the dead. Though they weren’t in an abandoned construction lot, much about the scene felt familiar to Lucas, except this time he was on Harry’s side and turning someone over, rather than being exchanged himself.  Lucas walked Finn McCrae over to the SAS agents, who gave him Cami in return.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she whispered to Lucas as he walked her back to Harry’s car.

“Just be glad we had your uncle to use as leverage. Harry is not happy.”

Cami schooled her face into a properly contrite expression.

They silently sat in the backseat of Harry’s car like scolded school children waiting to be called into the principal’s office as he drove back to Thames House. He looked at them in the rearview mirror as he pulled into the secure parking garage under the headquarters. “You’re both on administrative leave for the next 48 hours.”

“You’re joking.”

“You can’t actually put me on leave. I don’t work for you.”

He caught her eyes in the mirror. “You don’t work for the SAS anymore, either.”

Cami blinked, believing she must have misheard. “What?”

“You’ve been terminated. What did you think was going to happen when you used your login to break into the military’s classified computer systems?”

“Well I didn’t think I was going to get caught.”

“That’s your problem, Cami. You act first and think later. It’s what got you into so much trouble as a field agent.”

Cami fought to keep a calm mask in place over the swirling anger and panic – and relief? – at the news of her termination. “They really fired me? What about my patients?”

“They’ll be reassigned to other therapists.”

“And the grants I was overseeing, what’s going to happen to those?”

“Someone else will be in charge of them. Your plans for overhauling mental health services for the security services will now fall to someone else to implement.”

Her nails dug into the smooth leather of the seat as her jaw tightened. “I’ve busted my arse for a year and a half to get that funding in place.”

“Now someone else is going to get to use it. There are consequences for your actions, Cami. It was stupid to volunteer your information, and stupid of Lucas to let Tariq use it. I can bring you on as a consultant until we get Nightingale taken care of, but you’ve jeopardized your security clearance with your behavior today. It will take serious convincing for me to be able to bring you on permanently, if that is what you want.”

Cami huffed through her nose and slouched back against the seat. Lucas asked, “Is Tariq on leave as well?”

“No. He’s working with the SAS this weekend to verify the extent of Finn’s depredations on the military network. Because of your actions I’ve had to bring the SAS in on this operation, at the risk of alerting members of Nightingale that we are aware of their affiliation.”

Lucas leaned forward through the gap through the front seats. “There has to be _something_ we can be doing that’s more useful than being on leave.”

“No, there’s not. We have the air force bases doing hand inventory off of hard copies to see if anything is missing and the SAS is mobilizing in country assets to see if they know what’s going on with our two Iranian friends or Chervonenko. Until Monday morning, I don’t want to see or hear from either of you. I’m giving you some time off. Enjoy it.”

If Lucas didn’t know better, he would have sworn Harry was trying not to smile. “You’re up to something.”

“I know you two had plans this evening and from the contents of her bag I’m fairly certain what those plans were. I have dinner reservations with Ruth tomorrow night and I’d rather not hear from or about either of you again and have to cancel my plans. Do I make myself clear?”

Cami snickered into her hand while Lucas fought to keep the smirk on his face from turning into laughter. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, get out of my car.”

Lucas spent most of the drive to his house assuring himself that she hadn’t been maltreated during her detention and Cami spent the drive insisting that she was fine. “Harry was on the phone with the head of the SAS before they even had me back to the building. Stop worrying.”

“I just want to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“They didn’t lay a hand on me.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “If it would make you feel better, I can let you check for yourself. Make sure they didn’t leave any marks.”

His smile was the first one she had seen from him all night. “I think that would make me feel better.”

“In all sorts of ways.”

His hand moved up her leg from her knee to settle on her thigh. “You’re a saucy little thing tonight.”

“I’ve gotten past the ‘does he like me?’ phase and the ‘but he’s my client’ phase and the ‘is everything I say going to be misinterpreted as asking him for sex’ phase and now we’re pretty much at the ‘everyone in the British government knows I’ve got a spare set of knickers in my bag’ phase, so really, why bother to be embarrassed about anything?”

“I like this phase.” He parked his car and held her hand as they walked to his door. “I’m sorry I got you fired.”

“You didn’t get me fired. I shouldn’t have let you use my login. Harry was right, I tend to leap first and think second.”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Is that what you’re doing now?”

She touched his cheek in the dim glow cast by the porch light. “No. That would have been me kissing you when you pinned me to the floor and told me to yield.”

“So you’ve thought about this? About us?”

“Yes.” She placed her hand over his on the knob and turned it. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. Not at all. You know a lot about me, about what happened to me. More than Sarah did.” He shut the door behind them and rested against it. Cami put her bag down and leaned against him, smoothing her hands over his chest. His hands stroked down her back and came to a rest on the curve of her hips and she waited for him to speak the words that were haunting his eyes. “I wonder sometimes if it’s possible for you to actually care for me knowing what happened.”

“Of course it is. It’s something that happened to you, but it didn’t change who you are.”

His hands flexed on her hips, digging into the curves he had found enticing since that day she had answered her door in her workout gear, skin tight and sweating, showing off a flat stomach and full breasts. “And who am I, Cami?”

“A good man who had bad things happen to him.”

“Is that really how you see me?”

Cami didn’t think this was the moment to explain all the things she saw in him, the boy who was denied the manhood he should have had and instead was picking up the pieces and trying to fashion them into some semblance of a life he could find honorable and fulfilling. “Yes.”

The word echoed in Lucas’s mind far out of proportion to its volume. The gentle whisper of her faith in him was balm on scar tissue that had stretched and strained as he fought to allow himself to be vulnerable with this woman who could see past all his defenses and bring them down with words the way Darshavin never could.  Lucas whirled them around and pressed Cami up against the door, pinning her in place with his pelvis. “I may have a bit of bad boy mixed in with the good man.”

Cami couldn’t decide which was harder, the wood against her back or his body pressed against her. “All the best men do.”

He bypassed her mouth and went straight to her throat, pressing his lips to her skin. He had learned her neck well in the last week and he licked the skin right below her ear, knowing that she would moan softly. The sound vibrated against his lips and he grabbed her rear and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to his bedroom. He collapsed with her on the bed and kissed down her neck and across her chest, undoing the buttons on her shirt in advance of his mouth.

He shoved the fabric aside and shook his head as he saw the livid new scar of the bullet wound. He kissed it softly, letting his lips linger as he shoved down the anger the puckered skin caused in him. He kissed along the edge of her brastrap, following it downwards over her fair skin and pulled down the cup of her bra. “You have such a gorgeous body,” he whispered against her skin and ran his tongue over her nipple. He’d felt her breasts before – hands had gone wandering during good night kisses – but feeling her harden against his tongue was electrifying. Her fingers raked through his hair before they held his head. The entire week had felt like foreplay for this moment, where he swirled his tongue around the peak of her breast and scraped his teeth over the delicate skin.

Cami slid her hands down Lucas’s neck as she arched under his mouth. She sunk her fingers into the soft cotton knit of his shirt and started to pull it up, wanting to run her hands over his back and chest. She’d had vivid dreams about that night she had massaged him, about letting her hands linger, slide further down his back to the curve of his rear, and impatience flooded her as she finally saw her dreams about to be fulfilled. Lucas knelt over her, and as the shirt bunched around his neck and under his arms, he sat up on his knees and pulled it off.

She put her hand against his stomach, smoothing over the warm skin, skimming over the bottom of the tattoo that covered most of his chest. She crooked a finger at him and he fell back down, catching himself on his hands on either side of her head and she pulled him in for a kiss. She thought she would have been more nervous, knowing that they were finally going to have sex, that she was going to have sex with someone other than Gideon for the first time in forever, that she was going to have sex for the first time in over two years, which felt like forever, but she wasn’t, and Lucas’s hand in her hair and lips on her mouth made sure that the last thing she was feeling was nervous.

He sucked at her bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth, licking it better, kissing it again. Her lips were incredibly soft and he knew he would never get tired of kissing them and as she broke away from his kiss to press her mouth against his neck, to lick at the line of his jaw, to nip at the line of his throat, to kiss the hollow of his neck, he knew that he would never tire of feeling them against his skin either. He rolled over on his side and brought her with him, sliding his hand down her back to cup her rear and pull her against him. She hooked her top leg over his thighs and rocked against him and he tightened his hand on her bum and held her while he ground against her in return.

Her head fell back and he kissed her exposed neck as he repeated the movement of his hips and she squeezed her leg around him. The heel of her shoe dug into his thigh and he grimaced.

“I think we need to get rid of those.”

They had both been in such a hurry to get to his bed that neither one of them had bothered to take off their shoes. She unzipped her ankle boots while he kicked off his shoes and then pulled off his socks. She took off her socks – they were turquoise and covered in hedgehogs, quite a contrast to her black shirt and dark jeans – and he couldn’t help but smile. “Those remind me of your kitchen. All that blue. All that unexpected color from someone who can seem so serious. But you’re quite the mad fairy inside when it comes down to it, aren’t you?” He sat on the bed next to her and kissed her shoulder as he pushed the sleeves of her shirt down her arms.

“I can be.” The sudden mischief in her eyes as she unbuttoned his jeans made her seem even more enchanted than normal. “Would you like three wishes?”

“I thought genies granted wishes.”

“Ah right. Fairies bewitch you, carry you off to a magical place, and feed you on moonlight and dewdrops.” She pulled down his zip.

“Well, you’ve definitely done the first two.” He undid the button on her jeans and pulled down the zipper. “I’m not so sure that last part is something I want to sign up for.”

“Maybe I’ll be the biscuit fairy. Kiss your cheek, take you to bed, and feed you on love and biscuits.”

He blinked a few times. “Do you love me, Cami?”

The mischief faded from her eyes for a moment. “Remember in the hospital when I said I was more than half in love with you?”

He nodded. “I felt guilty for being that happy when you were so injured.”

“Well, I think I’m about 87% in love with you now.” The sparkle was back in her face again.

He smiled again and Cami’s breath caught. He was so beautiful when he smiled. “You’re very precise.”

“And what about you, Lucas?” Her chin lifted in challenge. “Are you in love with me?”

“I’d say I’m 95% in love with you.”

She laughed and pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. “Head of the class. Are you always the star pupil?” She kept her voice light but looked for any signs of distress in his face.

“There’s some things I’m very good at. Loving someone is one of my areas of expertise.” He slipped the straps of her bra down her arms. “And may I say you have absolutely gorgeous breasts?”

“You’ve already got me in your bed. You can stop with the flattery.”

He sat up and kissed her as he unhooked her bra and pulled it off. “It’s the truth.” He ran a finger down the slope and over the nipple, circling it slowly. “You have the prettiest breasts I’ve ever touched.” He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger. “And your nipples just beg to be licked.”

He kept his eyes on her face while he bent down and ran his tongue over the pale pink peak of her breast. Cami didn’t know what was hotter, the feel of his tongue on her skin or the look in his eyes that set her blood to boiling. She closed her eyes as he wrapped his hand around her breast and squeezed, tugging at the hard pebble with his teeth. He wrapped his arm around her and lowered her to the bed again, his hand returning to her rear and pulling her against him. This time when she hooked her leg over him and ground against him, it didn’t make him grimace, it made him groan as she rocked against his groin, stirring his cock to life.

He kept his hand on her breast as he kissed across the valley and up to her other nipple, drawing it into his mouth. Cami whimpered and pressed her hips against him again. Her fingers slipped through his short hair and she moaned as his teeth slid against her breast.  Every touch of his tongue, ever nip of his teeth, every squeeze of his hand, it was all combining to set her head spinning and her hips moving, pressing against his body in that rhythm she remembered. His hand trailed down her side and dipped inside the back of her jeans, gripping her arse through her knickers. She moaned again at the feeling as he ground against her, feeling the outline of his cock through his jeans.

“We have too many clothes on,” she murmured.

He licked her nipple one more time, his tongue hard and flat against the delicate pinkness. “I agree,” he growled. He sat back on his knees and hooked his fingers into the waist of her jeans and pulled them down, taking her knickers with them. He paused when he got the clothing to mid-thigh. “You are so beautiful, Camwyn. So breathtakingly beautiful.”

The blush started at her breasts and bled up her neck and he tugged her clothes the rest of the way off. She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed so she could return the favor and as she slipped to her knees on the floor, she kissed his thigh. His fingers closed in her hair and she waited for him to pull her away, but he didn’t. He just held her hair in his hand, weaving it through his fingers. She kissed his thigh again, letting his cock brush against her cheek. She kissed him over and over, letting her lips tracing the muscle in his thigh, the vee of his hipbone, the words of the tattoo that sat low on his stomach. Her hair brushed over his cock as she moved, like a sheet of silk, and she kissed him more, down his other thigh. Finally, she brushed her lips lightly over the head of his cock, and he shuddered.

Lucas’s nails scraped across her scalp at the feel of her mouth on his most sensitive skin. He’d never let Sarah do this; he wasn’t sure he was ready for Cami to do this. She kissed the head of his cock again, her lips parted enough to let her warm tongue touch the skin and then she stood, knowing better than to press him too far so soon. She sat on the bed and crawled backwards before she beckoned to Lucas with a single crooked finger. He followed her with a smile but stopped halfway up her body, parting her legs and licking her wetness, pressing his tongue in between her folds and over her clit.

Cami cried out at the sudden onslaught of sensation, and her hands flew to his head as her hips bucked in surprise. Lucas quickly settled into a steady motion, his tongue working over her clit in tight little motions, dipping down periodically to press inside her. He watched her as he licked and sucked, wanting to know what she liked. He found the exact spot that sent her body quivering and tongued it mercilessly, watching her start to writhe. Her hands moved to her breasts, tugging at her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, and her breath was fast and ragged. He slipped a finger inside of her, moaning against her at the heat and the tightness of her around his finger. She rubbed against him, her hips rocking in time with the thrust of his finger and one of her hands returned to his head, scratching against him as she sought the pinnacle of the mountain he was pushing her up. He sucked her clit into his mouth, catching it between this teeth ever so gently, and ran his tongue over it again as he pushed another finger inside her. Her bum hadn’t touched the sheet in the last minute as she strained against his face. He crooked his fingers and her stomach trembled.  He smiled at the sign of her imminent release and repeated the motion as he fluttered his tongue over her clit. She tried to scream his name, but just stuttered the first syllable as her body coiled ever tighter.

Cami dug her fingers into the bed, her feet walking back up towards her bum as her body was drawn ever tighter. Like a bow being drawn by a master archer, Lucas pulled every nerve in her body taut, and he was waiting for the perfect moment to loose them to send her shooting into ecstasy. She rocked against his face, the slight rasp of his stubble teasing against her wetness. His fingers bent, and he hit that perfect spot inside her and she tried, she really tried, to call his name, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t manage to string together two syllables as he hit that spot again and again, every thrust of his fingers driving her ever higher, and then he scraped his teeth against her clit and his tongue flicked against her sweet spot a final time and she exploded, every nerve in her body snapping in the same moment, leaving her glowing as the stars shattered behind her eyelids.

Lucas had already put on a condom by the time she opened her eyes and she wrapped him in her arms as he began to press into her. The sounds of his pleasure brushed against her ear as he worked himself slowly into her. She hooked her legs around his thighs as he pressed and retreated, and then pressed deeper. His back was hard as marble as he fought to stay in control, to make himself take her slowly. She smiled at his sweet concern. She wasn’t a virgin though and she tightened her legs around him. She wanted this as much as he did. She _wanted_ to feel him stretching her open and taking her until he was completely buried in her body.

“I’m not going to break,” she whispered, and he lifted his head to watch her face as on the next push he sank himself completely into her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned softly. “God, Lucas, you’re amazing.”

He smiled and kissed her as he began to move. He grabbed her calf and brought her leg up so it was hooked around his waist. She was so incredibly wet that he could hear every move of his body into her. The sound wrapped around him, stroking his ego that she had responded like that to his touch, to what he had done to her. He was going to bring her to release again before he came. She was risking so much of her heart to care for him; the least he would do is pay her back with as much pleasure as he could cause in her body. They moved together in perfect harmony, her hips lifting to meet each one of his thrusts, over and over again until she was gasping for breath. Her head was thrown back as her spine arched, curving her body up against him. He wrapped an arm around her and held her against him as he bent his head to her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth again.

“Lucas!” She managed to get out his whole name through a herculean effort. He rubbed his thumb over her clit and she managed a shattered cry as he began to circle the sensitive little bud.

“That’s right, Camwyn,” he whispered against her ear as her nails dug into his shoulders, “just like that, honey. Just let it go.” She gasped for breath, once, twice, and again, before her entire body went rigid under his. He kissed her throat as she came, her pussy clenching around his cock as he continued to pump into her, the new flood of wetness letting him go faster without worrying that he might hurt her. He didn’t take long to follow her, letting go of his self-control as he slammed into her body the last few erratic thrusts, his head thrown back as her name echoed in the room though he had no memory of screaming it.

They laid next to each other, chests heaving as they sought to get their breathing back under control. They both rolled their heads to the side at the same moment and smiled at each other. “We should get put on administrative leave more often,” Cami said.

Lucas pulled her closer and kissed her. “We’ve got two days of this ahead of us, and I don’t plan on wasting a single minute of it.”


	27. Chapter 27

Cami woke as the sun stretched its long fingers over the rumpled sheets to find Lucas sitting on the edge of the bed watching her. She yawned and stretched and rolled over onto her side, pulling the sheet up over her chest. “Why are you awake so early? We don’t have to be anywhere.”

He traced the folds of the sheet draped over her hip. “Do you think I can do this?”

“What, have sex with me? Based on my recent recollection, I would say yes, most definitely.”

He smiled but it faded quickly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do.” She placed her hand over his and calmed his restless movement. “And yes, I do.”

“I woke up early and showered because I don’t think I’m ready for sharing that. I don’t think I can shower with someone yet.”

She propped her head up on one hand. “That’s fine.”

“What if I never can?”

“Then I’ll take showers by myself.”

He slowly shook his head. “You deserve someone better than me.”

“Better than you how?”

“Just…better.” He pulled his hand away from her.

“What would you do if I said you deserved someone better? Some prettier or smarter or stronger or with less baggage?”

“I would laugh.”

“And is it so wrong then that I should feel the same way about you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not Gideon. I’ll never be him.”

“And I haven’t asked you to. Gideon will always have a place in my heart. But he also left a hole. And you fill that hole for me.”

Clouds moved in front of the rising sun and the light in the room dimmed. “As who I am now?”

“As who you are now. Did you ever make shaped Christmas biscuits? Like gingerbread men or stars or such?”

“When I was younger. My brother and I would have a contest to see who could make the best one.” There were shadows in his eyes and dark circles under them.

“You and Gideon are like gingerbread men, but each one is shaped a little differently, and decorated differently. It wouldn’t make sense for me to fall in love with someone who shared nothing with the man I loved for so long. But I’m not looking for an exact duplicate. My heart is different now, and you fit the heart I have now. You fill the hole that losing Gideon created, and you touch parts of me that he didn’t. I am different now, and it wouldn’t make sense for me to want someone who matches who I was then, instead of who I am now.”

He pushed himself up off the bed and began to pace around the room. “What if I don’t get better? What if this is as good as it gets? As I can be?”

She rolled over on her other side so she could watch him prowl the room. “Then I will be happy.”

He stopped and looked out the window, silhouetted against the dawn light. “Are you happy, Cami?”

“Yes.”

She waited while he pondered that. Finally he said, “Falling in love with you scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because you mean a future. You mean commitment and responsibilities and obligations in a way Sarah never did. I may have fancied myself in love with her, but it was a very circumscribed love. You aren’t someone I can love like that. You want my whole heart or none of it.”

She wished he would turn around, so she could see what was going on in his eyes. All she could hear was a slowly hardening resolve in his voice. “I don’t need your whole heart. I just need to know that I’m first in it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. What happens if I have to go undercover again? I could be gone for a few months and that’s if things go well.”

“You do your job, Lucas. That doesn’t mean you’re betraying your love for me.” Her grip on the sheet was tightening and she forced her hand to relax.

“So I go off and leave you alone again? Make you dread every phone call or knock at the door?”

“I’ve done it before. That’s your life. You’re MI-5. But being MI-5 doesn’t mean you don’t have time for a personal life. You can have both.”

He turned around and began to pace again. “Can I? Harry doesn’t. Ruth doesn’t. Ros, Jo, Dimitri, Beth, Adam, Tariq, Ben, none of us. There’s not a single stable relationship among them but there’s a whole lot of corpses.”

“So what are you saying?” She knew what he was saying, but she didn’t want to believe it. She was going to make him actually say the words.

“You know how you kept asking me what my priorities are?”

“Yes.”

“And I’ve always been honest with you. I’ve always said MI-5 comes first.”

Goddamn him and his perfect memory. He had been honest with her and she had wanted to believe that with her it would be different. “What does that even mean?” She tried to temporize but she knew it would be of no use.

“I’ll lie to you if I have to.”

“I understand that.”

“And if I have to be undercover? If I have to kiss another woman, are you going to be alright with that?”

“I could understand why you would have to do that.”

He stopped in front of her and folded his arms over his chest. “You could  _understand._ But would you be alright? Or would you resent me?”

“Why would I even know you had kissed someone unless you told me?”

“So I’m supposed to keep secrets from you to keep our relationship happy?”

She sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet up to her chin. “Why are you pushing me away like this?”

“Because I keep thinking about what you said when I so disastrously tried to be your very special alpha, that you don’t get involved with security services personnel because they tend to die. And yet, here you are, naked in my bed. And I’m wondering why.”

She looked down, not able to watch his heart shutting itself away. “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

“Wrong.”

Her face snapped up. “What?”

“There’s no way you’re in love with me. Not the me I am right now. You’re ready to move on with your life, and I’m in the right place at the right time. You couldn’t save Gideon, and you think that if you save me, it will make up for him dying.”

“ _Don’t_  say that.”

“You accused me of transferring my feelings for Sarah onto you. I think you’re doing the same thing. I think you’re transferring your feelings for your dead husband onto me.”

“I know you’re not Gideon.”

“Then why are you breaking your own rule?” he yelled. “ Why are you dating me when you know what I am?”

“Because I love you, you enormous git!”

“When did you fall in love with me, Cami?” He crouched down so he was eye level with her. “Was it when I was telling you about the nightmares? When I showed you my grave? Or was it the time you had to take a gun away from me because I was going to kill myself? I am too fucked up for someone to be in love with. You may love me, I may fill a hole in your heart, but I’m not in the shape to be someone’s partner right now, and deep down you know that. You  _know_  that,” Lucas snarled. He stood and began pacing again. “I’m safe, because you can tell yourself you’re in love with me, but I’m not going to challenge you. I’m grateful. Fuck,” he punched the wall, “I’m like a whipped dog just whining for someone, anyone to love me. I can’t do this, Cami. I can’t do,” he gestured back and forth between them, “this.”

“You can’t have sex? You can’t be in a relationship? What is  _this?”_

“I can have sex. I can’t be in a relationship. Not right now.  Not with you.”

“Why not?” She forced down the hurt that was burning up her throat, the tears that were clogging her sinuses.

“Because I’m setting up boundaries! Isn’t that what concerned you so much with me letting Darshavin and Sarah in, with trusting them even after so much evidence that I shouldn’t? Well, I’m saying that right now my instincts are saying that I need to figure out my own shit before I let myself get wrapped up with someone else. I have to heal better than I am right now before I can let myself be in a relationship. You say you’re fine with how I am right now but I’m not. I’m not willing to give you first place in a damaged heart that can’t even promise you that I won’t leave you alone again. You might be able to make yourself happy with this, but you deserve better.”

“So we’re done then? This is your take on ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?”

“I’m not ready to be in a relationship. I’m sorry. I thought I could do it, but watching you sleep made me realize I can’t when all I could think about was what me dying on a mission would do to you. I’m barely holding it together at work as it is. I can’t deal with one more claim on me. Not right now. Remember how you told me I need to live my life in accordance with my priorities? Well, right now…right now my priority is rebuilding my life as an individual. And then, maybe when I can look at myself in the mirror without shame, then I’ll be ready to be part of a couple.”

She slithered out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around her and picked her clothes up from the floor as she walked to the en-suite. The door shut behind her and the water turned on. Lucas sank down on the edge of the bed and waited with his head in his hands. He stood when she came out. She was fully dressed and her face was scrubbed red. “Goodbye, Lucas.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“I don’t really have one anymore. Or a job. I guess you’re not the only one who needs to work on rebuilding their life.” She shook her head. “Thank you but no. I’m a big girl. I can call a cab.”

“Cami –,”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin it any more than you already have. I guess I should have listened to you when you kept running away, to all your hesitations and doubts. I never was a very good psychologist anyway. I just wanted to help people, but I always pushed too fast. Leap first, and think later, right? I guess I did that with you too. I wanted you to be better faster than you could, because I’m in love with the vision of you that I have in my head; the you that you would have been without Russia and Lushanka and eight years of hell.” She sniffed and wiped at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“You’re right to listen to your instincts though, Lucas. I know you can get better. You’re already so much better than you were, and Dr. Askenova is really good. Much better than I am. She’ll help you.”

She stepped towards him and held out a hesitant hand. She moved to touch the tattoos on his chest, stopped, and then continued forward. Her fingers stroked over the design on his chest and then she turned and left the room. He heard the front door open and close and he sat back down on the bed. Her scent lingered in the air and the sounds of the previous night echoed in his ears. He stood back up and began stripping the linens from the bed. He had to get the memory of her beneath him in his bed out of here before he broke down and went after her.


	28. Chapter Twenty-eight

Cass was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes when she walked into her kitchen Saturday morning to find Cami already sitting at the small table, staring sightlessly out the window. She didn’t say anything, just made her tea and toast, folded over the newspaper to the crossword and set it in front of her with an ink pen on top. She kissed the top of Cami’s head and left her to herself. The first time back out there was always the hardest.

***

Lucas grabbed the handset of his ringing phone as he stood over his desk. “Hey, Scotland Yard here again. I have some news on those murders you were interested in.”

“Found a new connection?”

“Human trafficking ring. I’m not sure if they’re connected to your weapons guy after all, but if you can smuggle people in and out of the country, there’s room for weapons as well.”

“Right. Do you have intel on the people behind the ring?” He sat down and scrabbled across the mess of papers on his desk for a notepad.

“Two Irani brothers, last name of Kashidi. I’ll email you all the information we have on them. All the victims of the ring have been Armeni Christians. It seems that they’re trying to leave the country because of increasing ethnic tensions with the Azerbaijanis that are primarily Muslim.”

“How many dead have you found?”

“We’re up to fourteen now. We found three girls this morning, all under the age of sixteen, with their throats slit. I can’t keep this out of the press anymore. Their bodies were dumped in an empty lot and the press was hot on our heels when we arrived.”

Lucas rubbed his temple. It felt like someone had taken an ice pick to his skull. “How long before it hits the news?”

“It will be out there today. This is going to be a shitstorm of epic proportions when it hits. I know I don’t need to tell you that, but Muslims targeting Christians, especially young women? Scotland Yard’s going to be calling in double shifts for street patrols until things settle back down.”

“Anything we can do to help?”

“Just shut these guys down.”

“Will do. And thanks for the update, Greg.”

***

There was nothing but the ball. The white and black filled her vision as she charged down the field. The yellow jerseys of the opposing team danced along the periphery as they tried to cut down her angle on the goal. Her teammate called her name, wide open on the field of green, but Cami kept running down field, keeping the ball right between her feet. She could do this herself. The defender came in and Cami refused to cede ground. She barreled into the woman and the yellow jersey fell in a flail of arms and the shrill of the whistle cut through the air.

“Oh, come on!” she yelled at the referee. “There’s no way you’re calling a penalty for that flop. You should be giving her a BAFTA for that performance.”

The referee pulled out a yellow card and pointed it at Cami.

“You’re giving me a yellow for  _that?_ You got your knickers in a twist over someone disagreeing with you, zebra?”

The referee reached for his pocket again and Cami laughed.

“Ooooh, what are you going to do? Wave a piece of paper at me?”

He pulled out a red rectangle and Cami booted the ball, sending it soaring into the opponent’s goal before she stormed off the field.

***

“Lucas, do you have a minute?”

He sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Of course.”

Ruth looked down at the sheaf of papers in her hands. “I’ve been looking through the bird references that Cami noted before she left. And I think I may have figured something out.”

Lucas kept his face immobile at the mention of her name. Her desk was still empty against his hope that she would have shown up to work yesterday morning. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t, though. He’d met with Dr. Askenova yesterday and laid out a recovery plan for him. He knew he had made the right decision in breaking it off with her, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt every time he thought of her. “What’s that?”

“There’s several different ways that the bird references are used, and one group seems to be used in reference to flying, to a plane.”

“The unmanned drones.”

“That’s what I would assume.”

“And then another is used to represent the interests of a democratic Iran. There are two national birds in Iran, the Falcon and the Nightingale.”

Lucas leaned forward. “Well that doesn’t sound good.”

“And then the third is to refer to women. It’s a Western slang term, which may be why these particularly stood out. Women are birds.”

Lucas tried to put all the pieces together in his head but it wasn’t forming a coherent picture yet. “So, they are working with Nightingale in the thoughts that they are bringing about a better future for Iran. They’re targeting women in their trafficking scheme to do what?”

“This is where the third part is interesting. I don’t think it’s just them killing women to get more press attention. The United Nations subcommittee on the rights of women meets in London next week. I think they’re going to target it.”

The audacity of the plan left Lucas wordless for a second. “You think they’re going to try and blow up a UN meeting?”

“Yes. They want this to look like Muslim violence against Christianity and the West, so they attack an organization that promotes the interest of women, claim it’s a radical Islamic group that did it, and get the West to actually crack down on the religious leaders in Iran and force a democratic revolution, of which they will be the leaders.”

“That seems like an incredibly risky and naïve plan.”

“Right. Because Nightingale is just using them. We’ve got Kurdish refugees turning up dead in Brussels, Greek Cypriots dying on vacation in Morocco, increased chatter among Chechen rebels, Serbia and Bosnia are both having higher levels of cross-ethnic violence than usual. I think Nightingale is trying to destabilize the entire Middle East up through the Balkans and then give the West an excuse to go in and burn it all to the ground and start over.”

“They can’t possibly think that would work.”

“They were willing to use nuclear weapons. I don’t think that normal levels of risk analysis apply to them.”

Lucas rubbed his face with his hands. “It’s like trying to rationally prevent suicide bombers. The rules don’t apply. There’s no way to logically plan for situations like this.”  He looked up at Ruth. “Have you told all this to Harry yet?”

She ducked her gaze and hugged her files to her chest. “No. I thought you should.”

Lucas paused for a second. It looked like her weekend date with Harry had gone about as well as his had with Cami. “Let’s go talk to Harry.”

***

Cami stood in the middle of the living area of the empty flat and spun around. It was clean and huge windows along one wall looked out over a large park. Children could be heard playing on the football pitch. “It’s a one year lease?”

The agent nodded. “First and last due at signing, along with a security deposit.”

“Do you think the landlord will mind if I paint? I think the kitchen needs to be red.”

***

Tariq ran across the grid to Lucas’s desk and skidded to a stop. “Tell me you love me.”

He looked up at the IT guru with a raised eyebrow. “Buy me dinner first.”

“You are not going to believe what I am about to tell you.”

“Try me.”

“Someone in Bristol just googled, ‘How do I attach an AGM-114 Hellfire II missile to a UAV?’”

Lucas stared at him for a few seconds. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

“Seriously. Apparently since Finn got copying the schematics, he didn’t have time to download them all, including the part that shows you how to load the ordnance.”

“So Nightingale is using Google to figure the rest of it out.” Lucas was still having problems believing this.

Tariq nodded, trying not to laugh. “Apparently the quality of their subcontractors is slipping.”

“You’re tracking down the address to a more precise location than Bristol, right?”

“Yes, the tracker’s running now. But I thought you might want to get the people with the guns ready to go in and eliminate the threat when it’s done running.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.” He turned to go back to his desk and Lucas reached for his phone.

“Oh, and Tariq?”

He turned back around, a questioning look on his face.

“I love you.”

The young man grinned and went back to work.

***

Cass dropped into the chair across from Cami at her kitchen table with her laptop in her hands. “I have something I want to show you.”

Cami put aside the paint swatches she had been holding up to the sunlight. “If it’s an online dating website I am  _not_ interested.”

Cass laughed. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you. Not yet, at least.”

Cami stuck her tongue out at her sister-in-law. “What is it then?”

Cass turned the laptop around and set it in front of Cami.

Cami looked at the website and then back up at Cass. “I think I’m a bit old for sixth form, darling, but at least this means my moisturizer’s working.”

“No, silly. Not to attend. To  _teach.”_  She reached over and pointed a finger at the vacancies heading. “They’re looking for someone to teach languages.”

Cami looked down again and read the qualifications. She fulfilled all of them. Plus, her counseling background could always be helpful working with teenagers dealing with the stress of applying to university and being away from home for the first time. “You think I should apply?”

“I already downloaded the packet.”

***

Lucas sat at the conference table with his team as they finished the debriefing on the latest threat they had eliminated.

“Thank god for stupid terrorists,” Beth said when they were done.

“Yes, but we can’t always count on the idiocy of our enemies to do our work for us,” Harry answered. “This seems to have been the first in a series of coordinated attacks from the information provided to us by our new guests. It’s the opinion of GCHQ that the risk from not moving against Nightingale now outweighs the risk of letting them continue to operate.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning what for us?”

“For us, relatively little. MI-6 and the SAS will be implementing a series of target acquisitions or removals over the course of the next six months.”

Lucas nodded, his face calm, though inside his stomach churned. They were going to assassinate the leaders of the organization.

“Any other questions?” Harry asked. When there was no response, he stood. “Back to work then.”

***

Cami didn’t recognize the number flashing on the screen of her mobile before she answered it. “Hello?”

“Good morning, this is Ms. Handrew at King Edward’s School. Is this Dr. Reynolds?”

“Yes it is.”

“We’ve received your application to teach languages and we would like to invite you down to visit the campus. Do you have time in the next few weeks that you could join us?”

***

Lucas stared at his phone as it sat on the table in front of him. He knew he needed to pick up and call, but the step was terrifying in its enormity. He took one more swig of his beer and then scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for and rang it.

“Lestrade here.”

“Hello. This is Lucas North. We worked together on that string of Armenian murders about three months ago?”

“Right, of course. The trafficking ring. What can I do for you tonight?”

“I was wondering if you had some time in the next few weeks that we could get together and have a beer and a chat. I’ve got some questions about how Scotland Yard works.”

“What, you thinking about coming over?”

“Actually, I am.”

***

Cami looked around her classroom. It felt weird to be standing in front of the class instead of sitting in one of the desks and the faces were all so young as they sat silently and looked at her.

“Buenos días, estudiantes. Soy la señora Reynolds y hoy comenzamos nuestro viaje juntos.”

***

Lucas knocked on Harry’s office door. “Do you have a minute?”

Harry looked up from the monitor. “Of course, what is it?”

Lucas shut the door behind him and held out a piece of paper to Harry. “I’m resigning, effective as soon as you find someone to replace me.”

***

Cami sat at a small table in the faculty lounge, going over assignments with a purple pen while she ate her lunch.

“You must be new.”

She looked up (and up!) at the tall man who had paused at her table.

“How can you tell?”

“You’re grading on your lunch hour. That never lasts beyond the first few months. Mind if I join you?”

She swept the papers into a neat pile and shoved them in her bag. “Not at all.”

He sat down across from her and put his lunch down. “Mason Gardner, History and Geography.” He held out his hand.

She smiled. It would have been impossible not to smile at his broad grin and head full of golden curls. It was like a golden retriever had come to life. No, a golden retriever wouldn’t have that much hair. A lion. A very friendly lion. “Camwyn Reynolds, Languages. But please, call me Cami.” She shook his hand. It was warm and calloused and she wondered what he did that gave him the markings across his palm like that. It wasn’t from chalk.

“Cami. So tell me, do you like football?”


	29. Chapter 29

About nine months later

Cami slung her duffle over her shoulder and walked back to her car, the thrill of victory slowly ebbing away into the tiredness of a long day. Next week was the last week of term and student attention spans had shrunk to a millisecond, and each class session began with student pleas to have class outside in the sunshine. She couldn’t blame them; she wouldn’t mind an afternoon of sunshine and a nap in a hammock under a shade tree right about now either.

“Nice match.”

She stopped and stared at the bright pink strap of her flip flops across the top of her foot as she processed the voice. The voice was easy to identify. It was what the voice did to her that needed time to process. First happiness washed through her body, and then a flood of anger quickly followed. She hadn’t heard from him in almost a year and this was how he decided to reappear? It wasn’t even that she was sweaty and gross looking; it was that she didn’t have any time to prepare, to mask her emotions, to come up with those little throw-away lines that proved that she was doing fine without him, thank you very much.

She slowly turned around. He was leaning against a tree, dark jeans and a long sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbows. He looked relaxed, casual, at peace. Her stomach did a backflip. He looked good. “Thanks.”

He pushed off of the tree and walked over to her and she pulled her duffle in front of her. “You didn’t even get a red card this time.”

“I try not to get them. It kind of defeats the point of wanting to play.”

He smiled, his eyes roaming over her face, drinking in her features like she was an oasis in a desert. “Have you found another way to throw knives then?”

She hugged her bag tighter. She was not going to let him play on old memories. “What do you want, Lucas? Why are you here?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me.”

“Like on a date?”

“Yes. On a date.”

She turned around and started marching towards her car. He quickly caught up with her and caught her arm. She slung her duffle bag around and threw it at him. “You have a lot of nerve to show up after a year of no contact and ask for a date.”

“I told you I wasn’t ready then. I am now.”

“So what?” She pushed him and he backed up a step. “You think I just sat around and waited for you? I could have a boyfriend. I could have moved on. Did you ever think about that?” She pushed him again and he retreated once more.

“Every night.” She refused to respect the pain in those two words. “But I know you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“How?” Her face clouded over like thunder and she looked around the park. “Are you having me watched?” She advanced on him. “Are you spying on me?”

“No! I asked Cassie. That’s also how I knew where you were. I’m not stalking you.”

It was like a balloon being pricked by a pin. All of her rage left and she shrank. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well that makes this slightly less creepy then, I guess.” She huffed and kicked at a clod of dirt. “Cassie doesn’t know everything though.” She sounded like a sulking child even to herself.

“So you are in a relationship? I checked with Cassie because if you had moved on I didn’t want to disturb that. To disturb you. But when she said you weren’t with anyone I thought maybe you’d give me a chance now that I’m doing better.” She had forgotten how blue his eyes were and the way the parallel lines formed across his brow when he looked at her with hope in his eyes. She had forgotten the way he had made her feel safe, and even here in a public park yelling at him, she was glad he was back in her life again, in whatever capacity he was there.

“Just like that.” She had so much sarcasm in her voice her sixth formers would be proud of her. “Snap your fingers and all better? Dr. Askenova is even better than I thought.”

“It wasn’t just like that and you know it. I’ve been meeting with her three nights a week for the last year trying to fix myself enough so that I could look in the mirror and see someone I respected. And I do now.”

She hugged herself as she looked down. He looked so much stronger. Not in a muscular way, but just the confidence with which he carried himself. It was easy to see that what he said was true. He trusted in himself now. She just couldn’t decide if she could trust him again. “And so you’re asking me to take another chance on you so you can just run away again and break my heart again?”

“I’m asking you to take another chance on me because this time the last thing in the world I want to do is run away from you.”

She looked up at those soft words. He had stepped closer to her and her chin jutted out as she glared up at him. She was going to run him through the argument he had given her when he had left. She wanted to know how much he had really changed. “And MI-5? Are they still your first priority?”

“I quit.”

Cami blinked several times, her mouth ajar. “You quit MI-5?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re prettier than Harry.”

She huffed out a growl. “I’m being serious, Lucas.”

“So am I. If I’m going to be spend my life married to something, I don’t want it to be my job. I spent eight years clinging to the righteousness of MI-5’s mission and the love of my wife, and neither one of them were there when I got back. There are too many shades of grey there now and I believe too much in black and white.”

“So what are you doing now?”

“I’m with Scotland Yard.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m heading one of the Extradition and International Assistance Units.”

She smiled. “So you’re still tracking down the international baddies, but this time you have the law at your back instead of making it up as you go along.” It sounded like a perfect job for him.

He nodded. “I have to say though, I did consider applying to be part of the Dog Support Unit. I couldn’t do it though. Dogs should be chasing sticks, not corpses and cash.”

“You look happier now than you did before. Not as pinched around the eyes and you smile easier.”

“I am happier. I’m better. I’m not broken anymore, Cami. I’m still got scars, but they don’t cripple me anymore. At least not as much. I feel like I’m worthy of you, or at least as worthy of you as any man is going to be. But if you’re with someone, I’ll leave. I didn’t come here to upset you. I’m sorry.” He handed her back her duffle bag and she took it.

Cami watched him walk away. He really meant it. He didn’t want to cause her problems. She bit her lip for a few seconds and then called out. “Wait.”

Lucas stopped and looked back at her.

“I am seeing someone. Sort of. I mean, it’s not exclusive. It’s just weird because he’s one of the teachers and there’s always students around so we have to be very discreet and dating someone from work is just awkward anyway.”

He walked back to her. “So you’ll have dinner with me?”

“This week is bad. It’s end of term so I’m booked solid through Friday night.”

“Saturday then? I’ll even cook for you.”

She raised an eyebrow. She didn’t know he could cook. They had always gotten takeaway. “Are you any good?”

“Do you like paella?”

The other brow rose to meet the first. “You can make paella?”

“You’d be amazed at what I can do.”

Oh god, I’d forgotten the smirk. God damnit, Cami, how could you forget that smirk? “You still in the same place?”

“No. I bought a little place in Cobham.”

Her smile faded. “You live in Surrey now?”

“Is that alright with you?”

She shrugged. “It just seems so…sedate.”

“I like not hearing my neighbors.”

“Alright. Then I’ll see you Saturday. Text me how to get there.”

“Do you still have the same number?”

She nodded. “And Lucas, I swear to all that you hold holy, if this turns into something and you run away again, I will hunt you down and shoot you. Not kill you. Just shoot you. Somewhere painful.”

“I understand.”

He walked her to her car, and when she pulled out of the car park, he was still standing there watching her.

***

She sat in her car, staring at her mobile. It read 6:45. She looked at the door to Lucas’s house and back at her phone. She’d been sitting there ten minutes already. She’d been so nervous she hadn’t been able to sit still at her flat, and all her attempts at meditating had been for naught so she had left early and now she sat in his drive and stared at his house.

Little place in Cobham, my left foot. It was a house, and not a particularly small one either. It was bigger than the place that she and Gideon had owned in London. You couldn’t see it from the road as the trees screened it from the road and she was fairly certain it had been a flour mill or barn or something agricultural in its past. The stone edifice was dotted with windows and was being slowly smothered by creeping vines of ivy.

Staring at the structure was not helping her nerves and she decided to just go knock on his door. He had probably noticed her sitting outside in her car anyway. She nervously smoothed a hand over her hair as she walked up the pine-needle dappled path lined with clinker bricks to the front door, a bottle of red wine in her other hand.

She knocked on the door. She was not expecting to be greeted by a barking dog. “Rochester, down!” It fell silent again and the door opened. Lucas smiled at her. “Sorry about that. Rochester isn’t used to a lot of company yet.”

She looked at the spaniel puppy sitting by Lucas’s bare feet and back up at him. “You got a dog.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to state the obvious. But she did. He had a house in Surrey and a dog now.

“Yes. Cami, this is Rochester. Rochester, this is Cami. She’s a friend so no more barking at her.”

Cami held her hand out to the dog and he snuffled it wetly and then licked it. She petted him on the top of his head a few times before she stood back up.

“You got a house.”

“Yes.”

“A big house. This is not a little place.”

“It’s bigger than my place in London but it’s not a mansion.”

“Flour mill?”

“Barn.”

“That was my second guess.” She handed him the bottle of red wine.

“Would you like to come in?”

She walked past him into the wide open space. Exposed stonework and interior brick walls mixed with normal plaster and hanging lights to create an open living space. Sofas and a chair gathered around a fireplace in one corner. A table and chairs on a brightly striped rug in another corner next to a stainless steel and glass bedecked kitchen.

“This doesn’t look like it belongs in Surrey.”

He smiled as he watched her turn slowly and take in her surroundings. “I know.”

She walked trancelike to the folding glass doors that opened onto a poorly tended garden.

“I’m still trying to get the garden into shape. It’s difficult though because Rochester things I’m planting things for him to dig up.”

Cami stared at the huge expanse of green and bushes and flowers and more trees. And a chicken pecking at the lawn. “There’s a chicken in your garden,” she said flatly.

He came and looked over her shoulder. “There should be two.”

Two chickens. Of course. He now had a house and a dog and chickens. “You have chickens?”

“Enough for an egg with breakfast most mornings.”

She rounded him on him. “Who are you and what did you do with Lucas North?”

“This is me, darling.”

She waved a finger in his face. “Don’t you ‘darling’ me. You own a home. Not just a house but this is a home. There are books on bookshelves and photos on your fridge and you’re cooking and there is a dog and chickens and a garden and you live in fucking Surrey. Who are you?”

“I’m Lucas. This is who I was before Lushanka and who I am now that I don’t have to hide who I am. Now that I don’t have to live a hidden life. Those boxes by the bookshelf? My parents brought them down with them last weekend.”

Again her anger derailed with his words. “Your parents know you’re alive?”

“Yes. I have my past back. I have my family back. Lushanka didn’t rob me of that. I meant it when I said that I’ve put my life back together. I’m ready for a future, Cami.”

She stared at him. He meant it. He wanted a future. Presumably with her. In this converted barn with a dog and chickens.

“I think I’m going to just stand here and take all this in. You go cook or something.”

“Feel free to wander around the house or the garden. Just don’t go sit out in your car and stare at the house again.”

“You noticed that?” Her forehead crinkled in a combination of embarrassment and laughter.

“Of course. You might not know this but I was a top MI-5 agent once.” His smile was infectious.

“I’ll just have to try harder next time. Maybe park further away.”

“Or you could just come in when you get here. It will give me more time to convince you to kiss me.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t think she could move by herself. All she could do was stare at him and the memories of his lips on hers and his hands against her skin flooded through her and heated the air between them like plasma. He pulled her to him, his arms sliding under her open coat to wrap around her waist and then he leaned back against the kitchen island, pulling her between his legs so they were inches apart and eye to eye. Cami realized she had been holding her breath as she watched him lean in towards her. Her hands were braced against his chest but just as she began to lean in to kiss him she realized what she was doing and stepped back.

“I’m not ready to kiss you.”

Lucas swallowed and stood up straight, wiping his hands against his thighs. “Is this about the guy you’re dating?”

“Mason?” she asked, incredulous. She had forgotten about him completely when Lucas had pulled her into his arms. “No. I just feel like I don’t know you now. I mean, it’s been almost a year and you seem so different now.”

He shook his head. “I’m still me. The me you were 87% in love with. I’m just better now.”

“And this is what you want?” She waved an arm around. “A home in Surrey and some chickens?”

“And a dog. I thought that was what you wanted for me. The house and the wife and the kids and the dog.”

“Well, yes. I did. I do! But…”

When she didn’t speak after twenty seconds, he prompted her. “But what, Cami?”

“Aren’t you bored?” she whispered.

“Bored?”

“Bored. It’s all so calm and peaceful and…nice.”

She watched him as his eyes narrowed and he stared at her. And then she saw the realization dawning in his face. “You’re bored being a teacher.”

He really did understand her. “Oh my god, yes!” She walked across the open space and flopped down on the sofa. “You would not believe the amount of drama teenagers can generate and 99% of it is about nothing substantive. And it’s all farmland and I can’t pop out and get decent Thai food for lunch and Mason. Oh my god. Mason.”

“That bad?”

“Mason’s nice.”

“And?”

“No, that’s it. He’s nice. So incredibly nice. He apologizes for apologizing too much. He’s always happy. It’s like he’s the living impersonation of sunshine. He’s so busy looking at the silver lining that he never notices the clouds. We went to the cinema and I made a snarky comment about the film and he didn’t laugh. He seemed offended. And he didn’t even try to kiss me even though the theatre was half empty.”

He stood in front of her with his hands on his hips. “And you’re worried that I’m actually a Mason at heart.”

“Yes. Because you live in a barn in the country and I swear I’m going to have to navigate by the fucking stars to get back to London tonight because there’s no streetlamps out here on the backside of beyond.”

Lucas rubbed his hands over his face and Cami watched with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Maybe she could just leave now and get back to London before it got dark.

And then Lucas started laughing.

“What?”

“Oh thank god.” He slumped down on the sofa next to her.

“Thank god for what?” She had no idea what he was laughing about.

“I hate Surrey,” he said.

Her eyes widened and she turned to face him. “You hate Surrey?”

“I hate Surrey.”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Then why are you living here?”

He looked down at his hand and rubbed them on his jeans again. “Because you were working at King Edward’s School and I thought this would be a nice halfway point between London where I worked and Witley where you worked.”

Cami swallowed so she would shut her mouth that had fallen open at his words. “Wait. You bought this house for us?”

He took her hand in his and linked their fingers together. “Yes. And I bought this particular one because at least it doesn’t look like the man Rochester would look at home sitting by the fire. All the houses out here are so old, Cami. I want Thai food for lunch and I want museums and the thrill of chasing down criminals and keeping the world safe and I don’t want chickens. Chickens are the stupidest animals on the face of the earth. I don’t know why I baptized them as a child because they are so dumb that I have to go get them out of the rain so they don’t drown as they stare up at the water falling from the sky with their beaks gaping open.”

Cami covered her mouth with her free hand to stifle her laughter at his frustration. “I like buying my eggs at the market.”

“So do I.”

They looked at each other for several silent seconds. “You really bought this house for us?”

He nodded. “I’ve spent the last year getting better with the hope that you would take me back the minute I felt like I was ready to be in a relationship. I did it for me, but I also did it so I could have a chance to convince you to take one more chance on me.”

“And you’re not nice.”

That smirk again. That palpitation inducing smirk. “I’m not Surrey nice.”

“Thank the Lord, the Virgin and all the saints.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So what do we do now?”

He looked over at the kitchen and then back to her. “Well, the paella is ready to eat. I suggest dinner, a bottle of wine, and then see where the evening takes us.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”


	30. Chapter 30

Cami had drunk enough wine so that everything was warm and just the slightest bit fuzzy and she was prone to giggle more than laugh. Lucas had only had one glass to her two, but Cami was positive she had seen him smile more tonight than in the entire time they had been together. And the food had been amazing.

Cami drained the last few drops from her glass and looked around the huge open space again. “It’s a pity you can’t take this and just drop it in the middle of London. It really is a gorgeous space.”

“Somehow I think people would complain about the view being spoilt if we just popped it down in the middle of Hyde Park.”

“Stupid people with their views.” She lifted her wine glass to her mouth before she realized it was empty. Lucas lifted the bottle of wine to refill her glass but she put her hand over it. “I shouldn’t have anymore right now.” She stood and smiled as Rochester immediately scampered over to her and presented his head for ear scratches. She complied with his request and the puppy went into paroxysms of delight. “Such a good puppy you are.” She stood back up to see Lucas watching her with a grin. “What? He’s a good puppy.”

“Yes, he is.”

“You’re going to have to find a place with a garden big enough for him to run around.”

He inclined his head towards her and blinked a few times. “What was that?”

“Well, there’s no reason for you to live out here if you hate it and we’re both working in London. But this little guy,” she bent down to pet him some more, “is going to need a garden to run around in.”

“What about King Edward’s school?”

“I quit,” she told Rochester, waggling her head back and forth so he would do the same thing.

“You quit?”

She stood back up. “Yes. If you can quit MI-5, I can quit King Edward’s. It turns out that just because I love learning foreign languages doesn’t mean I actually enjoy teaching them. So I turned in my letter of resignation with final marks yesterday.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I have no idea.” She really didn’t, and it was slightly terrifying, but scared was better than bored. “So what’s upstairs?”

He smiled at her graceless hint. “I never did give you the full tour, did I?”

“No. I sort of got sidetracked by the chickens.”

“I’m not taking the chickens with me to London.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But  _I’m_ going to be removing to London.” He found it amusing how easily she rearranged his life, and the complete lack of irritation he felt about it.

“Well, you don’t have to, of course. It just seems like the commute would be a waste of time that you could spend,” she stared up at the high ceiling, “what was your line, oh yes,” she looked back at him with the wild mischief of an hundred fairies dancing in her eyes, “convincing me to kiss you.”  

“That is true. And I suppose I should convince you to kiss me before I start packing boxes up again.”

“Well, maybe packing up a few boxes wouldn’t be completely premature. After all we have kissed before.” Her teasing smile turned soft and intimate as she got lost in her memories for a second. “I remember those kisses. I remember the few hours that I spent naked in your arms with the crystal clarity as if they happened yesterday. Mason was nice but boring. But it wasn’t just Mason. Everyone I dated over this past year was washed out like a shadow on a cloudy day compared to your memory. So forgive me if I don’t feel like wasting any more nights missing you when I could have you next to me.”

“Right then. Let me give you the grand tour.” He took her hand and walked towards the staircase. “Family room, dining room, kitchen, down that hall is a water closet, study, laundry room and some storage. This is the staircase, watch your step, made from the original timbers from the stalls, and here we have what was the hayloft. If you go down that way, you have two bedrooms and a family bathroom. We’re standing in a sort of open gallery which I had planned on turning into something but I won’t worry about that now, and through this door is my bedroom.”

He shut the door behind them to keep Rochester from sticking his cold wet nose somewhere unwelcome at the worst possible moment and as he turned back around he was hit in the face by Cami’s shirt. He caught it as it dropped and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to pay for that, darling.”

“Good.”

She laughed as he tackled her onto the bed and then pinned her hands over her head. His smile faded as he stared down at her. “I have dreamed about this. For the last year I’ve dreamed about having you back in my bed.”

“Sometimes dreams come true.”

He let go of her hands so he could smooth her hair back from where it had fallen across her face. “You are better than a dream.” He kissed her and it was soft for a second or maybe two before the pent-up longings of a year apart battered at both of them and she began to tug at his shirt. He sat back on his knees as he pulled it off and tossed it aside. She threw her bra after it and their hands collided as they reached for the button on each other’s jeans. He smacked her hands away and undid her jeans and stripped them down her legs impatiently, the black lace of her panties being discarded at the same time.  He skimmed his hands up her sides, brushing over the outer curves of her breasts and pushing them together before he kissed her, one of his hands cradling her face as the other one stayed on her breast, kneading the heavy flesh until her nipple went hard against his fingers.

They kissed, over and over, hot and wet and sometimes they would pause and just stare at each other from millimeters apart. He would brush his thumb across her bottom lip or she would touch his cheek and shake her head as if she couldn’t believe he was real. And then they would kiss again. And again.

Her lips were swollen before he kissed any other part of her, and then he claimed her neck and licked the soft skin of her throat and bit at her shoulder with just enough pressure so she could feel the imprint of each individual tooth, but not so much as to hurt. He moved his hand over her stomach, squeezing each individual handful of flesh before he moved to the next, wanting to touch all of her, to cement the reality of her in his mind again. When his hand moved between her thighs, Cami lifted her hips, tilting them upwards so that he could slip a finger right inside. He did, and she muttered, “Fuck,” under her breath. Her nails dug into his back as he slowly moved his finger, in and out, and he swore softly at the clenching heat of her, and pressed a second finger in with the first. His palm nestled against her clit as he crooked his fingers inside her and her arms tightened around his neck as her body bowed upward.

“Lucas, please, just take me.”

“No. Not until you come first.”

“Please. Please I want you inside me. I need you inside me.” She ran her hand down his chest and cupped him through his jeans. “You want this too,” she rubbed her hand against his hard cock. “Please, I don’t want to wait any longer. A year was long enough.”

Her words pained him and she took advantage of his momentary pause to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zip enough to slip her hand inside. His cock was hard and burning hot and she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and he groaned against her neck. His hand disappeared from between her legs and he shoved his jeans down enough so that his cock was freed from its restraints and she ran her fingers over the hard length of it. She gasped as his hand grabbed her rear and then his long fingers slid over her thigh and hooked behind her knee. He wrapped her leg around her his hip and she rolled to face him as she pressed his cock between her legs, feeling it nudge against her entrance.

Lucas gripped the cheek of her bum and drove his cock into her willing body. Her teeth stood out against the swollen red of her lip as she bit down, struggling to adapt to the sudden intrusion. Her throat vibrated under Lucas’s lips from her moans as he kissed her neck, his fingers digging into her arse as he thrust into her over and over. Their bodies rubbed together, skin on skin, a faint sheen of sweat emerging as her leg tightened even further around him, her heel digging into his buttock where she could feel the muscle flex with every pump of his hips. She had longed for this moment for a year, and it heated her blood that he wanted her just as badly, with such desperation that he didn’t even get his jeans all the way off before he buried himself in her. She had thought he had moved on and forgotten her. She had tried to forget him, to move on as well, but she hadn’t been able to forget him and his rare smiles and the feel of his body wrapped around her in the dark of the night.

His hand dug between their bodies and he stroked her clit. Her whole body quivered and he rubbed it in quick circles, his nose brushing against her neck as she started to tremble. He focused on the sweet pain of her nails digging into his back as she came so he wouldn’t as well, listening to the cry echo back from the beamed ceiling and watching her face as her orgasm shattered her. It had been a year since he had seen anything that lovely. He slowed the movement of his body and kissed her throat, her shoulders, across her chest, down to her breasts as he withdrew from her and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

His teeth scraped against it as he let it go and then he rolled her over onto her stomach and kissed in between her shoulder blades. “Come on, darling. Up on your knees.”

Lucas finished shucking off his jeans as she struggled up onto her knees, her breath still coming in shallow pants, and Lucas ran a tender hand over her arse. The skin was reddened on one hip where he had been grabbing her and he bent to kiss it.  His lips brushed across her skin with a soothing warmth. “I love you, Camwyn.”

Her breathing stopped for a second as the words penetrated her brain. He’d never said that before and those words, even more than the stupid chickens and moving to Surrey, convinced her that this time he really was going to stay. She had no illusions that it would be easy or even that it was guaranteed to work, but this time they were both going to make an honest effort. She looked over her shoulder at him, the dark of his hair against the cream of her skin as he kissed her body over and over, like he was going to pay penitence for the days he had been gone by leaving a caress for each one of them on her flesh. “I love you, too. Lucas.”

He lifted his face to gaze at her. “You don’t have to say it just because I did. I can wait until you mean it.”

She pushed herself up on her knees, her spine twisting so she could take his face in her hands. “I love you, Lucas. Honest truth. My feelings never wavered while we were apart.  Seventeen first dates in nine months and not a single one of them could make me stop thinking about you.”

His breath fanned over her lips, already dry from her labored breathing, and she lifted her mouth to his. Their noses brushed and then their lips, and his hand cupped the back of her head. “I’ve kept a picture of you on my mobile and I’d look at it when I didn’t want to go to another therapy session to remind myself why I was letting someone poke around in my head.”

“I love you, Lucas.”

“I love you, Cami-girl.” He kissed her softly, over and over again, until her skin was tingling from the scrape of his stubble and he had forgotten what it was like not to taste her on his tongue. And then he swatted her lightly on the bum. “Now back down.” He nipped at her neck. “We’re not finished.”

“Yes, sir.” She brought her hand up to face to salute and then stopped as a thought occurred to her. She nibbled on her fingernail for a moment as she gained the courage to voice it.  “So, do you have a uniform now?” she asked, trying not to blush from her own embarrassment.

Lucas rubbed his cheeks with his hand, hiding his smile. “Yes.”

Her fingertip was still in her mouth. “Will you put it on?”

Lucas laughed, a sound Cami wasn’t used to yet but was convinced she would never tire of hearing. “Not right now, my dear.”

“But someday?”

“Someday.”

“Good.” She dropped down on her forearms and stretched, untwisting her spine one vertebra at a time. Lucas watched as her back arched and then flattened out again and growled deep in his chest.

“Do you have any idea of the effect you have on me?”

Cami looked over her shoulder at him again, dropped her eyes to his cock which was giving her a salute of its own and then back up to his face. “Some.”

He smirked as he stroked her arse and then slipped his middle finger into her wet pussy. Her mouth opened in surprise and she dropped her forehead to the blanket with a whine as he rubbed deep inside her. “It seems like I have somewhat of an effect on you too.”

Cami pushed her bum back towards him, her back arching like a ski slope as he rubbed her g-spot with every push of his finger into her heat. His other hand closed around her hip and held her still until she was whining from his touch. With no warning he pulled his finger from her and pressed in his cock, pushing down on the bottom of her spine with his hand to tilt her hips to the perfect angle. He bent forward and wrapped his arm around her, grabbing her shoulder as he pulled out and then shoved in again hard. She threw her head back, an open-mouthed groan of pleasure wrenched from her throat, and he nuzzled through her hair to suck at the skin beneath her ear. Her hand grabbed the back of his neck, holding him to her as they moved in harmony.

He wrapped his fingers gently around the front of her throat, pulling her head upward so he could kiss more of her neck. Her body formed a beautiful curve, and he could see her breasts swaying with each push of his body against hers. She was so lovely to him, and it still felt like a dream that she was here with him now. He had run Rochester to exhaustion every evening for the last week trying to get rid of the nervousness of waiting for her. After an entire year, it was weird that a week felt like it was twice as long, but he had carried a sleeping puppy home each night along the country road and still he had tossed and turned in his bed, wondering what tonight was going to be like. He had never imagined anything like this pure perfection though. He dropped his hands to the mattress next to hers and she grabbed ahold of them like a drowning man clinging to a life-preserver, linking their fingers together.

Cami called his name, a hot desperate cry for him to release her from her suffering, because the waves of heat rolling through her and causing every part of her body to tense and draw tight, to coil like a spring under pressure in her belly, were sweet torture because they wouldn’t let her come, not yet, and she needed to come with an intensity that she could barely contain. His chest rubbed against her back with every thrust of his cock into her body, his arms enclosing her even as his legs held her knees apart. She was completely at his mercy, at the whim of his thin lips against her throat. “Please, Lucas!”

He felt her pussy clench around his cock and he groaned and pushed harder, pulling one of his hands free to rub her clit. Her now free hand grabbed his hair as her neck arched even more than before, and he bit her shoulder, sucking at the mark and then licking the reddened skin. “God, I love you, Cami,” he said, his voice rough and ragged around the edges.  

Her fingers tightened on his neck as her spine bowed, drawn taut under him into a perfect curve. He rubbed her clit faster, finding the perfect speed as she bucked against his hand with every rotation. The arches of her feet dug into his calves as she held herself steady and then she cried out, seconds of unadulterated pleasure given voice as her pussy clenched rhythmically around his thrusting cock. He groaned as he felt his cock throbbing, pulsing in preparation, and with a few more hard thrusts, he came within her, deep and hot and perfect.

Cami collapsed on the bed and he sprawled next to her, his arm over her back.  When she could move again she kissed the tattoo on his shoulder and smiled. “I guess I should have brought a spare pair of knickers with me.”

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I don’t want to get lost driving home in the dark.”

“You can stay here as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”


	31. Chapter 31

Cami woke in an unfamiliar bed but with a long remembered arm wrapped around her waist. She wanted to snuggle into him and fall back asleep, but memories of the last time she had spent a night in his bed danced in the shadows of her mind and spurred her to snake out from under his hand and get in the shower before he awoke. He had made an amazing amount of progress in the last year, but she could spare him the stress of having to share a shower. She went in the en-suite and smiled as she saw the toothbrush she had borrowed sitting on the counter. Her own toothbrush in his house. It was a small step towards a shared future, she knew, but it was step nonetheless.

She’d been in the shower for a few minutes when he stepped around the glass wall that separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom. “Mind some company?”

Cami jolted at the unexpected sound and hunched over and covered herself with her arms.  And then she began to laugh. “Guess that reflex needs a bit more time to go away.”

He smirked as she uncoiled from her position. “I can leave if you want.”

“No. I just wasn’t expecting you. I thought I’d take a shower while you were still asleep so that you didn’t have to worry about…anything.”

He took a step closer to her. “It’s been three months since my last water-related flashback. And I think you’ll prove to be plenty distracting if necessary.” His eyes ran over her body and a slow smile spread across his face.

She held her hand out to him and he slotted his fingers through hers as he stepped into the shower. “I didn’t even think that this would be awkward for you. But it’s probably been a while since you’ve showered with someone.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, taking his hand with her. “If that’s your idea of a subtle question about my sexual activity since we last did it, I think you failed. You need to remember, I know how to interrogate a prisoner too.”

“Oh, and are you my prisoner now?” He pressed her up against the shower wall, smiling at her inhaled hiss of breath as the cold tile came up against her back.

She tightened her arms around him, slipping one hand down to cup the cheek of his arse. “As much as you are mine.”

He’d washed her hair for her and then they had moved by unspoken agreement to the bed again, not wanting to push their luck. Her hair was still dripping as they tumbled onto the bed, the blankets in disarray. He’d rolled them until she was on top, straddling his hips and she spent long lazy minutes committing his tattoos to memory with her fingers and then her mouth. Lucas had stroked her entire body, carefully running his fingers over the scar on her shoulder that had faded to match her skin and the smaller one on her stomach that was probably from having her appendix out. There was a bruise on her thigh that was a few days old and he knew she had been playing football again.

Her breasts were heavy in his hands and her nipples turned into perfect peaks as his fingers played over them. He finally lost his patience and spread his hands over her shoulder blades and pulled her down to him. She lifted her hips and slid herself slowly onto him and he groaned against her mouth. He still felt like this was a dream, that the sinuous movements of her over him were hallucinations tricked out by a mind that had spent too many years alone and in pain.

She pressed her lips to his throat. “I love you, Lucas.”

His fingers twined through her damp hair, braiding it around his hand, anchoring himself to the reality of her. Never in all of his dreams in Lushanka had it been like this. The lump of the blanket digging into his buttock, the periodic drop of water rolling down his wrist, the flush of color across her cheeks that made the sprinkling of freckles across her nose more noticeable. He raised himself into a seated position, the muscles in his abdomen flexing, and pulled her hair back. He licked her throat and then sucked at her skin. He wanted to memorize the taste of her, the scent of her skin, the way it felt under his tongue.

Cami wrapped her arms around Lucas’s neck as she continued to rock her hips. Each lift and sink dragged the ridge of his cock against her most sensitive skin. She cried out Lucas’s name and he pulled her hair back further, bowing her back and bent his mouth to her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding his head to her breast. The feel of his tongue swirling across her tender flesh sent sparks of lightning flashing through her, her body growing rigid as the tension built within her. She sped her hips, wanting, needing, craving more of the sweet hot sugar he was sending coursing through her veins.

Cami reached between their bodies and touched her fingers to her clit before Lucas took her hand away. He rolled them and pinned her arms over her head and bit her bottom lip, holding it between his teeth as he pressed his fingers where hers had been. Cami let out a breathy sigh as he touched her clit and Lucas licked his tongue against the center of her upper lip.

“Let me do this for you,” he whispered into her ear as his fingers spun over her clit. She nodded her head, too far gone to actually speak as she dug her heels into Lucas’s arse, lifting her hips up off the bed and grinding against his hand. His cock was still moving, hard and deep inside her and her eyes screwed shut as she followed the path the fire in her body was leaving for her. The ground smoked under her feet but she followed, racing after the flames she could see coming closer and then the fire overwhelmed her, sending her up in sparks that left her burning, glowing, delirious with the fever scorching her body.

Lucas watched her tremble and shake and then followed her into the flames burning away another layer of the walls that had kept them apart for so long.

***

Cami sat at the table, doing the crossword puzzle and feeding Rochester bits of bacon and scrambled eggs when Lucas wasn’t looking. She had a desire to take the puppy home with her when she left, but she figured Lucas would notice. Also her flat didn’t have a garden.

Lucas came back to the table with another plate of pancakes and sat down and handed her a shaker. “Cinnamon sugar for my lady.”

She brushed her fingers over his as she took it from him. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

“Just the important things.”

Cami was startled to find herself blushing under his gaze and dropped her eyes to her plate. She sprinkled the cinnamon sugar over her pancakes and rolled the first one into a cylinder. “So,” she said, after swallowing the first bite, “what’s the next step?”

Lucas lowered the strip of bacon he had almost to his mouth. “You mean, for us?”

“Yes. I don’t have a job. There’s no reason for you to live out here if you hate it, though I do appreciate the enormity of the gesture, but please don’t do things you hate anymore without at least letting me know you hate them first, alright?”

He reached his hand across the table and covered her fingers. “I hate Surrey. I hate live chickens. You have to share the crossword puzzle with me. Other than that, I’m fairly easy to get along with.”

Cami shoved the paper across to him. “Five letter word for ‘cat used to produce coffee.’”

He picked up the pen. “Civet.”

“Forty-two across.”

He filled it in and then put the pen down. “So, would you like to go house shopping with me in London?”

Cami choked on the bite of eggs and covered her mouth as she got it down. She took a swallow of coffee. “Um, to help you buy a house?”

“I was thinking that we might want to look together. I know we’re not ready to live together yet, but I’d hate to buy something you didn’t like, just in case we do end up living together in the future.”

She ran a hand through her almost dry hair and tucked it behind her ear. “I guess I can come jiggle toilet handles and complain loudly about the absence of a fireplace.”

His smirk was almost a smile. “Anything else going to make you complain loudly? You know, so I can narrow my search parameters.”

“Well, Rochester needs a garden, and I have to have a tub and not just a shower. And you should get something with enough room for a home gym.” She looked down at her plate again. “I can come over and hold the punching bag for you.”

“We can take turns holding it for each other.”

***

_Four weeks later_

Cami picked up her ringing phone, hoping it was someone calling back about the job applications she had been sending out. She smiled when she saw it was Lucas. “Back from Italy already?”

“Been back for hours. And hello to you too, love.”

Cami smiled as she curled up in her big chair. “Hello, love. You miss me?”

“Of course. You doing anything right now?”

“Staring at my résumé hoping to find the magic wording that will make someone hire me.”

“I’m coming to get you.”

She looked at the clock on her phone. It was early for him to be off work, but with doing a transport from Italy, who knew how that figured into his schedule. “You done for the day already?”

“Yes. And I want to show you a house.”

Cami sighed. “Another one?”

“I know we haven’t had any luck, but this is the house from someone that the other team picked up for extradition this morning. They know I’m looking and they said I should check on this one before it goes through legal probate.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is this illegal?”

“No. At least I don’t think so. You should wear trainers just in case we have to make a run for it though.”

An hour later they were standing in the ground floor living room.

“Well, it has a fireplace. Though that wall is very purple.” Lucas raised an eyebrow as he touched the rough wall treatment.

“I like the purple wall. It goes with the lamp over the dining room table.”

Lucas turned to look at the purple satin rectangle. “You like the lamp?”

“I do,” she said, her head nodding enthusiastically. “It has crystal dangles on it.”

“Yeah. I noticed those.” He sounded much less excited about crystal dangles.

Cami laughed and hugged him. “Don’t be boring.” She looked up at him, her arms wrapped around his waist. “The study was nice and beige for you.”

“It would be nice to have an actual home office. Though the beige wall looked like alligator skin. I’m not sure that’s boring.”

“I liked the alligator wall.”

Lucas just laughed and shook his head. “Let’s go see what’s on the next floor.”

She pinched his bum as she followed him upstairs. When he turned around to look at her, she conspicuously looked anywhere but at him.

They started opening doors as they got to the first floor landing. Bedroom, bathroom, bedroom, all showing signs that there had been a family living here earlier that day. Lucas opened the final door. “Come look.”

Cami walked into the master bedroom.  Two sets of French doors overlooked the terrace and garden. An open door led into the bathroom. “The tub in here is big enough for me, you, and Rochester.”

“I feel no need to ever test that statement for truthfulness.”

Cami smiled and hooked a finger through his belt loop and pulled him closer. “How about just me and you?”

Lucas smiled and kissed her forehead. “That one we’ll have to test.”

“What’s upstairs?”

“No idea.”

They took the stairs up to the second floor and found a large play room scattered with toys and another bathroom. Lucas reached up and touched the ceiling. “Tall enough for a punching bag.”

Cami hugged her chest, rubbing her hands against her arms as she turned in a slow circle, taking in the space.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think you and Rochester could be very happy here.”

This time he was the one to gather her in his arms. “And you, Cami? Could you be happy here too?”

Cami thought of the fireplace and the purple wall and the big bathtub and the two children’s bedrooms downstairs. “Yeah. I think I could.”


	32. Chapter 32

Cami sat on the foot of the bed sorting through the box that had all her shoes in it. Other boxes were scattered around the floor and stacked against the wall. She was still surprised at how much stuff she had moved in, considering the amount of things she had left here over the months she and Lucas had been dating. It had been over the course of moving in her furniture this past weekend that she realized why his house had always felt so sparsely furnished. He had been leaving room for her belongings.

Lucas stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his face. “I’m going to be home late because of the flight schedule. Can you take Rochester with you when you go out for your run tonight?”

“Of course.” She pulled two black heels out of the box, only to find they were different heights. She tossed them aside with a huff and went back to digging through the box. “Do you have any idea where a matching pair of shoes is?”

“No.” He squatted down in front of her and starting pulling shoes out of the box.

Cami grabbed a black heel out of his hand and crowed triumphantly as it matched the one she had tossed on the bed a few moments earlier earlier. “Success!”

“Why are you wearing heels anyway? I thought you had more training to go to today.”

“I do, but I’m also meeting my mentor today so I thought I would look nice.”

“You,” he leaned forward and put his hands on either side of her on the bed, “always look nice.”

He kissed her on her neck and she moaned softly before she reluctantly pushed him away. “You don’t have time to get in my pants without me being late for work.”

Lucas slowly stood up and reminded himself that she would be here when he got home tonight. That they lived together now.  They would have more time together now. “How much longer before you actually go out on a call?”

She slipped on her shoes and stood. “This is the last week of training,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, “and then the next call that comes in I go shadow my mentor, and then I’ll do several where I’m primary and he’s back up until he signs off on me being ready to do them alone.”

“I still can’t believe they’re going to have you doing hostage negotiations.”

“My shoot first proclivities help me have unique insights into the mindset of a hostage-taker.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you told the hiring committee?”

She traced a finger over the smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.”

“I know you. You just needed back into the field. You missed having a gun.”

“I’ll still be a psychologist for the Yard and this is an as needed assignment. It’s not like they need a full time person who sits around waiting for someone to take hostages or kidnap a duchess. It doesn’t happen _that_ often. We’ve gone over this, Lucas. And besides,” she pulled back from him and poked him lightly in the chest, “I’ve smelled GSR on you a time or two in the last few months, so don’t think you’re blameless here either.”

Lucas shook his head with a small grin on his face. He should have known he wasn’t getting anything past her. “We both need a little bit of excitement in our lives from time to time.”

“Speaking of excitement, Greg called me this morning while you were in the shower. He wants to meet me for lunch. Says that he has a case he wants to run by me, get some psych insight into the perp.”

“You sound like a cop.”

“I am now.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Even as a cop she still had some mad fairy in her. “Technically. So are you.”

Lucas finished buttoning up his shirt as he followed her from the bedroom. “I worry about you edging more and more into field work.”

“I worry about you as well. Just don’t be stupid. I’m never going to be happy behind a desk all the time.” She stopped on the landing of the stairs and turned to look up at him. “And I saw the Projects Team application on your desk. Were you going to tell me about that before or after you applied?”

He rubbed his cheek. This was _not_ how he wanted to bring up this topic. “Before. I wanted to talk to you before I decided whether or not to apply.”

She continued down the stairs. “Chasing down hit men and drug lords and international arms traffickers? It sounds a lot like what you were doing for MI-5.”

“Yes. The director of the SIS contacted me about coming over.”

Her steps faltered as she made her way into the kitchen. “Wow. That’s a compliment.”

“I’m thinking about taking him up on it. I just wanted to look at my options before I said yes. I think SIS might be a better fit than Projects right now.”

She took the bag of coffee beans out of the cupboard and poured some into the grinder and turned it on. She let the wheels turn in her mind as the grinder pulverized the beans. She tried to smash down the anger in her belly that he would wait until after she had moved in to discuss something like this. It felt like a bait and switch. The beans were powdered by the time she turned off the grinder. She started the coffee in silence and then stared at the pot rather than look at him. “So after all that talk about defending the law against the personal vagaries of national intelligence priorities, you’re just going to up and join MI-6 now?”

Lucas had wondered why she had reacted so strongly to the news of changing departments. Now he understood the hunched shoulders and tense jaw. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. “No no no. We need another acronym. Not the Secret Intelligence Service, the Special Intelligence Section. Still Scotland Yard. I’d be in London, but we would be targeting organized crime. It would be a lot like what I did for MI-5, the parts that I thought were valuable, but we’d have to be able to make a case in a court of law.”

She let out a shaky sigh that bordered on a sob. “That sounds really perfect for you.”

“We can talk about it more tonight when I get back. Maybe have some of your homemade biscuits while we do?”

She relaxed back against him. He’d never actually admit it, but he’d gotten as attached to biscuits and milk for a late night snack as she was. “Of course.”

***

Cami stepped down from the op wagon and walked over to Lucas where he was talking to Greg behind the barricade of police cars and cordons. She kissed him on the cheek. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be busting up a drug ring or something?”

“Call goes out of officer down and everyone in the vicinity shows up. I was in the vicinity.”

“And you just happened to be in the vicinity. It’s amazing how often that happens.” She rolled her eyes at him before she turned to Lestrade. “How’s your officer?”

“We haven’t heard from A&E yet.”

“You’ve got someone working comm with the hospital or do you want me to assign someone?”

“I’ve got one of my officers there. I’ll let you know of any changes.”

Cami turned around to go back to the op wagon when Greg said, “Oh, just a minute. Someone I’d like both of you to meet.”

Cami stopped and turned back around. Two men were approaching, one all dark curls and cheekbones and the other shorter and more stolid.  “Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, these are my colleagues, Lucas North and Dr. Camwyn Reynolds.”

The tall one looked her up and down. “You a new medical examiner then?” He turned back to Lestrade. “You didn’t tell me we had a body already, George.”

“Psychology, not medicine,” Cami spoke up, consciously keeping her voice smooth even over the irritation at being so summarily dismissed.

“Hmm. Pity. You might have been useful.”

“Sherlock,” John warned him.

“Yes. And you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re a high functioning sociopath instead of admitting that you’re so desperately terrified of the strength of your emotions that you pretend you don’t have any. Pity. You might have been happy.” She turned to kiss Lucas on the cheek. “They should have comms up with the shooter by now.”

She walked back to the op wagon, a flare of anger burning in her stomach adding a bit of extra force to her steps on the metal grated stairs.

Everyone watched the door to the operation trailer slam shut behind her and then John turned to Lucas. “So, you have one too.”

Lucas shook his head, clearing away the anticipatory thoughts of helping her work off her anger that night. “What?”

John nodded at Sherlock. “This one knew I’d fought in a desert war within thirty seconds of meeting me.”

Lucas blinked a few times as he remembered their first meeting two and a half years ago. “She figured out I was MI-5 by taking my bar order.”

“Yours seems a bit more domesticated than mine.”

“Until you play football against her.”

Watson nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cami came back out of the wagon wearing a headset and crossed to the other side of the cordon. She perched on the hood of one of the police cars and started talking, though none of them could hear what she was saying. Lucas knew from watching her on other negotiations that she was establishing contact with the assailants holed up in the building.

Sherlock looked around at all the police milling about and sniffed. “What are we even doing here anyway?”

Lestrade sighed and tugged up his sleeve. “Because these bastards shot one of my officers and you’re going in there the second she talks those bastards out and get me the evidence I need to put away this blasted ring of thugs for the rest of their life. I swear they walk through walls and I’m tired of them always being two steps ahead of me.” He put another nicotine patch on and pulled his sleeve back down.

Sherlock nodded slightly with more understanding than he’d had a few years earlier.

John watched Lucas stare at Cami. “You’re fine with just letting her go out there and negotiate?”

“Yes,” he lied. “She’s done this before.”

Greg shook his head. “She looks harmless. It’s like we sent a librarian out there.”

Lucas didn’t turn to Greg, his eyes fixed on Cami. With her turquoise cardigan and glasses, there was an air of librarian about her, though most librarians of his acquaintance didn’t have a favorite Sig, much less one tucked in the waistband of her trousers. She was perfectly capable at what she was doing, and yet he still wanted to go yank her back behind the barricade and shield her with his body. “If I start to go after her, handcuff me to the car.”

Sherlock snorted. “Sentiment.”

John’s head tilted and his lips firmed as he glared up at the pale face. “Like you didn’t shoot a man for similar reasons?”

“That was different. I had to keep your wife and child safe.”

“Exactly, Sherlock.”

“Is she pregnant?”

“Not yet,” Lucas answered, his eyes still focused on his girlfriend as she sat on a cop car chatting with a murderer, deliberately not thinking about the diamond ring sitting in the dresser at home.

“Then it’s different,” Sherlock replied. “I’m going to go get coffee.” John sighed and watched his best friend walk over to the table where coffee and tea had been set up for the officers working the scene and decided to trust him not to drug his coffee this time.

***

Cami stood barefoot in her underwear as she flipped through the clothes in her closet, looking for something to wear to Greg’s birthday party. “Do you think that abominable Sherlock Holmes is going to be there?”

“Why? You going to wear something extra sexy if he is?”

“No. I need to know if I should pick something I can conceal a weapon under so I can shoot him if he’s obnoxious to me again.”

Lucas walked up behind her and kissed the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. “Wear this.” He reached around her and held out his hand, a blue velvet ring box in his hand.  Cami whipped her head around to look at him, her eyes wide. Lucas lifted a single eyebrow in response but she focused on the small smile on his face. She slowly opened the box and bit her lips together at the sight of the diamond ring sitting inside. The single oval stone was set into a twisted rose gold band that sparkled with additional tiny diamonds.

“Wear it just for the party?” Her voice quavered.

“Wear it forever,” he murmured against her ear.

She nodded. “Forever.”

_The End_


	33. No More a Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little drabble that's been sitting in my head for a while.

Cami looked up as Lucas’s shadow fell across her and the boot of the police car she was sitting on. She put her hand over the microphone of her headset. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I think I could ask you the same thing.”

“ _I_ am doing my job, dearheart.  _You_ are interfering with that and need to get back behind the cordon.”

“We talked about this.”

“No, you talked, and I nodded my head like I was listening while really I was trying to figure out what I wanted to eat for dinner.”

“Cami!”

“Lucas!” She mimicked his inflection perfectly and then held up her hand in a shushing motion. She dropped her hand from the microphone. “Graham, do you promise not to shoot me?”

“Wot?” came the voice back through the headset.

“My husband here is worried that I’ll get shot sitting out here chatting with you. Promise not to shoot me?”

“I ain’t gonna take a shot at no pregnant lady.” He sounded offended that she even had to ask. “Nobody was supposed to get shot at all. This was all an accident.”

“That’s what I thought.” She turned back to Lucas. “Graham promises not to shoot me. Now go away so I can do my job.”

He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. Even in the middle of a hostage negotiation, Cami wasn’t completely immune to the sight of the muscles in his forearms shifting as he fought the urge to bodily remove her from her perch and take her somewhere safe. She winked at him and then made a shooing gesture and he reluctantly left her sitting alone on that car, resisting the desire to kiss her and stroke her stomach before he did so. Seven months along or not, she would kick his arse if he compromised her position in front of her colleagues any more than he had already done so. He knew he was already in line for getting yelled at when they both made it home this evening.

“Sorry about that, Graham. He gets protective.”

“Sounds like you got a good man. My girl’s pregnant too. We just got married last week because of the baby. I wanted to be a good man, but I ain’t got no prospects, see? We live with me mum and my little bro in Aylesbury. Can’t even find a job when they see that on the application.”

“Is that why you were robbing the pawn shop?”

“I need some money. Baby’s need things. I ain’t gonna run away from my girl. I’m gonna be a stand-up man.”

“That’s good that you want to do that, Graham. But right now I need you to let in the medics to get the shopkeeper before he dies. No one’s died yet, Graham. But if the man you shot dies, things are going to get a lot worse for you, and for your baby.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why did he hafta fight?”

Cami watched him getting more and more agitated through the store windows. He was waving the gun erratically. The three patrons were all huddled against the counter and the clerk was still not moving. She didn’t know how much time he had left before he bled out.

“Graham, is the clerk still breathing?”

“Ya, its all gurgly though. Don’t sound proper.”

Cami had heard that breathing before, usually right before someone died. “Can you help me out? I need you to let in the medics to get him so he doesn’t die. I promise no police. It will just be medical personnel, alright?”

“I don’t know, like, how do I know that you’re telling the truth? What if they’s really cops?”

“Graham, I promise. My husband may get a bit over-protective at times but I still love him. Your wife will understand that it was an accident, but if you let that man die when you had the power to save him, she’s not gonna understand that.” Cami mentally crossed her fingers and waited as she watched him continue to pace.

Finally, he answered. “Fine. But no police. You gotta promise me that. You gotta help me get out of this.”

“No police. I’m sending in the medical staff now, alright? Just sit back and don’t move while they’re in there.”

>< 

It was ten hours later when she finally made it home. Lucas heard her car pull up and met her at the door. She walked right into his arms and began to cry. “I’m sorry, love.” Her entire body shook with her sobbing and he stroked her hair over and over, not knowing what else to do. As negotiations had worn on, he left to do his own work, but he had heard the news ripple through the office: the hostage taker had fatally shot himself. While some could joke about that being the easiest way to close a case, all he could think about was his Cami and how devastated she would be. His phone call had been short. She was in a mess of debriefings and would talk to him when she got home. He recognized the crystalline edge to her voice and didn’t press.

“It’s the first time I’ve lost someone,” she snuffled and wiped away the tears washing her cheeks with both of her hands. “And he did it so his wife and child could get death benefits because he didn’t know what else to do.”

“Men do stupid things sometimes to try and take care of the ones we love.” He clasped her face in both of his hands. “I’m sorry. I love you and I interfere with your job because I want to protect you, but you don’t need that. I’m sorry.” She nodded and he kissed her forehead. “I’ll try and be better.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed.” It was one of those throwaway statements for so many couples, but for them it was a daily fear. “I’d rather have you than a benefit cheque.”

He kissed her and she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him until she could finally breathe normally. Lucas continued to rub her back until she let go. “I didn’t know what else to do so I made supper.”

Cami managed a fractured smile and sniffed again. “Paella?”

Lucas nodded. “Just as you like it, with extra sausage.”

She snickered. “No, it’s  _your_ sausage I like extra of.”

Lucas smirked and kissed her once more. “Then let’s go have supper and I’ll let you choose which one you want first.”

 


End file.
